A few days ago I was cleaning the bathtub downstairs. The Dictator was merrily playing outside on her scooter, and every once in awhile would come running inside for a drink of water before running as fast as she could right back outside again. On one of her trips inside she came running as fast as she could into the bathroom, threw her arms around me and said-
"I LOVE LOVE LOVE you Momma! I was thinking outside. Where do we come from?"
Uh....wait a minute here, random child of mine. What do you mean "Where do we come from?"
Me: "What do you mean where do we come from?" Well, what other question could I have asked?! Oh dear Lord, please don't let this go where I think it's going!
The Dictator: "Before we get in the Momma belly, where are we?"
Shit! Nope, not where I thought it was going! Worse!! Much worse!!!!
This could go so many directions of wrong. Since I'm just not ready to talk to my daughter about ovaries and testicles (she goes to preschool. She tells her teacher everything. In an effort to thwart CPS showing up, we are now asexual in this household), there's only one way this talk can go. Being for the most part agnostic, and the Politician being Confucian, I have dreaded this day since before I was pregnant. The God talk.
The Dictator is three. THREE! These are not the type of questions my barely three year old is supposed to ask me! What kind of preschooler asks these questions anyways? An evil one! An evil, tricky one, bent on the destruction of my sanity!
Me: "Well, where do YOU think we come from?" Oh yes.....the evil tricky child does not fall far from the evil tricky family tree. I will stop this conversation dead in it's tracks until I am ready for it. Like, when the Dictator is 35. Maybe.
The Dictator: "Why do you not want to tell me? I think you know the answer yourself. I want to hear your answer first, then mine."
FUCK! I've been outplayed.
Me: "Well, we come from storks. Yes! Storks carry us to our Mommy's. We are tiny little seeds and then we go inside a Mommy belly to grow!" Okay....this sounds somewhat plausible, no? I mean...we've talked about storks before and she's seen a few commercials on this subject. Yes...this could work!
The Dictator: "Well....where do the seeds come from?"
What?! The storks were supposed to distract your intently focused little psycho brain away from the baby portion of this conversation! Seeds?! What the hell was I even talking about?
Me: "Well, I don't know. I'm sorry. Maybe we can google it later? Or ask Daddy! He'll know!"
The Dictator: "Momma, obviously the seeds come from the garden. You are not taking this seriously. Momma, I really sure do you love you, but you really need to go back to school and learn more. I mean...what DO you know?"
Then she went back out on her scooter to play. I sat there next to the bathtub slack jawed and defeated!
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Co-sleepa
Life was simple. I went to bed whenever I felt
like it, and I got up at approximately 8am every
morning. My cozy bed was warm and soft and
clean. I could watch a scary movie in bed if I wanted to and nobody would scream "This is toooooo scary! I'm going to need therapy! Make it stooooop!" My biggest concern was that the Politician might hear me snore, or worse, see me drool in my sleep.
Then I got pregnant. And this happened-
Have you ever tried to sleep with a basketball inside your
shirt? No?! Go try it out and let me know how comfortable you
were. If that's too easy, insert a hamster inside the ball and put that in your shirt. Oh, and make sure to drink 12 glasses of water
before you go to sleep. Try holding your pee until morning. I dare you. If that's still too easy, try sticking water balloons in a bra and eat the spiciest food on the planet right before you lay down. Tell me how well you slept.
Eventually the Dictator decided to make her grand entrance into the world-
Silly me. At this point I'm thinking "This is the mosttired I'll ever be! 14 hours of labor and a c-section!
I can't wait to get to my room and just sleeeeep"
Oh dear.....Look at my innocent face. I had NO idea what was coming. I really believed the worst was over!
After getting home from the hospital the Dictator happily slept here-
Three years later, the Dictator still does not sleep in her own bed. In fact, The Dictator does not sleep at all. Last night we played Candy Land at 3am. I survive on coffee, diet cherry pepsi, chocolate and the hope that my daughter will be accepted into college any day now and choose to move away from home.
Remember how in that first picture of me the I looked so young, fresh and happy? This is how I look today-
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Making memories
I really don't like when people feel the need to make excuses for their bad habits. If you have a vice, admit it. If you are lazy, just say so. I have much more respect for someone who tells the truth, versus someone who has to come up with a reason for their shortcomings.
There's this new little phrase in the mommy community that has taken off in popularity lately-
"Good moms have sticky floors, messy kitchens, laundry piles, dirty ovens and happy kids!"
Uh.....say what? Personally, if I visited someone's home and it was dirty and sticky (sticky!? *shudder*), my first thought would not be "Wow! What a good mom!" Maybe that's just me.....
And my personal favorite- "Please excuse the mess. The children are making memories!"
Memories of WHAT? That Mom is a slob and Dad is too busy being a misogynistic pig to help out? That their lives perch precariously on the edge of spilling over into a "Hoarders" episode? Memories of Mom half heartedly shaking out their wrinkled, dirty, school clothes and spraying them with febreeze because she was too busy to do some laundry?
Does anyone REALLY think that kind of thing is cute or funny? Am I really just that off base and out of touch with popular culture?
I think this really points out how bad the 'mom-petition' is out there! We now need to stop and validate ourselves that our slovenly ways are not only acceptable, but also for the well-being of our children? It's good to be messy, because that must mean you are spending all that time making homemade educational games with your child and building forts out of boxes. Right? No. I just cannot believe that all these women advocating this baloney are making their own play-dough and spending the day teaching their own preschool.
In reality, is it not the perfect excuse to be lazy?! "Oh...I WANTED to clean the floors today dear, but I was too busy entertaining the children all.day.long. and couldn't take a moment away from them!" This is said by the same mom who has 5000 pins on Pinterest, has been on Facebook for the better part of the day (that little green dot tells no lies!) and knows the last person kicked off of "Project Runway". Hmmm.....
There's a lot of excuses out there to be dirty. "I'm a single mom" "I have health problems" "I'm pregnant. Again. With my eleventy-billionth spawn." "I work full time." Valid reasons. Perhaps. To a point. Actually...no. I take that back. I can count at least 3 wonderful mothers in my social circle who work full time, are single moms and one of them is pregnant again. Their houses do NOT look like a tornado just passed through. A dirty, sticky tornado full of chocolate sauce and cheetos that leaves the smell of failure in it's wake.
Yes, it's freaking hard to maintain a job, a child, a relationship with a husband, pets, family, dance class, sports, school, PTA meetings, HOA meetings, cooking and cleaning! It's exhausting It's frickin' hard to be a 'do it all mom'. It's also called being a grown-up and a good role model for your child! Get your butt up off the couch and push the 'self clean' button on your oven. It's laughable, considering our grandmother's did all the things we complain about without the machine element. Have you tried washing your laundry on a washing board? How about washing all your dishes by hand? ALL your dishes. The vacuum has come a long way in the last 50 years people! Don't get me started on the microwave. All this convenience, but it's somehow equaled more whining.
If you really wanted to be a good mom, perhaps make a game out of cleaning up the house. I'm sure there's a pin on Pinterest for that! You've probably already pinned it. Organized, full Pinterest boards does not a good mother make!
There are moms on the other side of the argument who will say "I'm not home all day to clean. I'm home all day for the betterment of my child!" or "I'm not the maid. I have interests as well and my own life to lead, outside of cleaning my home." Okay, okay. If you want to smell like stale laundry and dust bunnies so large they are mistaken for kittens, be my guest! But own it. Do not hide behind a cute phrase and idealize your poor time management. If you suck at home maintenance, just admit it. If you'd rather watch t.v., play online and eat junk food once in awhile, vs. spend every waking moment with your child, I'm not going to judge you. Just tell the truth. Don't label it as something it's not. There are certainly days I'm a disgusting pig of a person. My kid has gone multiple days without a bath. We've had cookies for dinner. I currently have a stack of laundry on the dryer waiting to be put away. I'm not going to be posting what an amazing mom I am on Facebook any time soon! I'm definitely not putting up a plaque in my house to announce my pride in my graham cracker encrusted couch. I just don't get it......
Talking to a friend recently, she made me feel bad for saying that dirty houses=bad moms. After a long chat, I was really starting to take her points into consideration. Perhaps I'm being too critical. I should probably be more supportive of my fellow moms. I went home after our talk thinking I needed to keep a more open mind. I decided to browse Etsy a bit before bed. In search of the right vinyl "Play!" decal to put above the playroom door I found multiple listings for decals and signs with the horrible phrase "good moms have sticky floors...." Uh....if you have enough time to shop on Etsy for a sticker to validate your atrocious housekeeping, perhaps you might also have time to vacuum or make a bed or two? Just a thought......
I think I'm going to hold my judgmental ground on this one. Perhaps 'good moms' have messy kitchens. Perhaps we as mothers should aspire to be GREAT moms, and have a clean place for our kids to grow-up in as well.
There's this new little phrase in the mommy community that has taken off in popularity lately-
"Good moms have sticky floors, messy kitchens, laundry piles, dirty ovens and happy kids!"
Uh.....say what? Personally, if I visited someone's home and it was dirty and sticky (sticky!? *shudder*), my first thought would not be "Wow! What a good mom!" Maybe that's just me.....
And my personal favorite- "Please excuse the mess. The children are making memories!"
Memories of WHAT? That Mom is a slob and Dad is too busy being a misogynistic pig to help out? That their lives perch precariously on the edge of spilling over into a "Hoarders" episode? Memories of Mom half heartedly shaking out their wrinkled, dirty, school clothes and spraying them with febreeze because she was too busy to do some laundry?
Does anyone REALLY think that kind of thing is cute or funny? Am I really just that off base and out of touch with popular culture?
I think this really points out how bad the 'mom-petition' is out there! We now need to stop and validate ourselves that our slovenly ways are not only acceptable, but also for the well-being of our children? It's good to be messy, because that must mean you are spending all that time making homemade educational games with your child and building forts out of boxes. Right? No. I just cannot believe that all these women advocating this baloney are making their own play-dough and spending the day teaching their own preschool.
In reality, is it not the perfect excuse to be lazy?! "Oh...I WANTED to clean the floors today dear, but I was too busy entertaining the children all.day.long. and couldn't take a moment away from them!" This is said by the same mom who has 5000 pins on Pinterest, has been on Facebook for the better part of the day (that little green dot tells no lies!) and knows the last person kicked off of "Project Runway". Hmmm.....
There's a lot of excuses out there to be dirty. "I'm a single mom" "I have health problems" "I'm pregnant. Again. With my eleventy-billionth spawn." "I work full time." Valid reasons. Perhaps. To a point. Actually...no. I take that back. I can count at least 3 wonderful mothers in my social circle who work full time, are single moms and one of them is pregnant again. Their houses do NOT look like a tornado just passed through. A dirty, sticky tornado full of chocolate sauce and cheetos that leaves the smell of failure in it's wake.
Yes, it's freaking hard to maintain a job, a child, a relationship with a husband, pets, family, dance class, sports, school, PTA meetings, HOA meetings, cooking and cleaning! It's exhausting It's frickin' hard to be a 'do it all mom'. It's also called being a grown-up and a good role model for your child! Get your butt up off the couch and push the 'self clean' button on your oven. It's laughable, considering our grandmother's did all the things we complain about without the machine element. Have you tried washing your laundry on a washing board? How about washing all your dishes by hand? ALL your dishes. The vacuum has come a long way in the last 50 years people! Don't get me started on the microwave. All this convenience, but it's somehow equaled more whining.
If you really wanted to be a good mom, perhaps make a game out of cleaning up the house. I'm sure there's a pin on Pinterest for that! You've probably already pinned it. Organized, full Pinterest boards does not a good mother make!
There are moms on the other side of the argument who will say "I'm not home all day to clean. I'm home all day for the betterment of my child!" or "I'm not the maid. I have interests as well and my own life to lead, outside of cleaning my home." Okay, okay. If you want to smell like stale laundry and dust bunnies so large they are mistaken for kittens, be my guest! But own it. Do not hide behind a cute phrase and idealize your poor time management. If you suck at home maintenance, just admit it. If you'd rather watch t.v., play online and eat junk food once in awhile, vs. spend every waking moment with your child, I'm not going to judge you. Just tell the truth. Don't label it as something it's not. There are certainly days I'm a disgusting pig of a person. My kid has gone multiple days without a bath. We've had cookies for dinner. I currently have a stack of laundry on the dryer waiting to be put away. I'm not going to be posting what an amazing mom I am on Facebook any time soon! I'm definitely not putting up a plaque in my house to announce my pride in my graham cracker encrusted couch. I just don't get it......
Talking to a friend recently, she made me feel bad for saying that dirty houses=bad moms. After a long chat, I was really starting to take her points into consideration. Perhaps I'm being too critical. I should probably be more supportive of my fellow moms. I went home after our talk thinking I needed to keep a more open mind. I decided to browse Etsy a bit before bed. In search of the right vinyl "Play!" decal to put above the playroom door I found multiple listings for decals and signs with the horrible phrase "good moms have sticky floors...." Uh....if you have enough time to shop on Etsy for a sticker to validate your atrocious housekeeping, perhaps you might also have time to vacuum or make a bed or two? Just a thought......
I think I'm going to hold my judgmental ground on this one. Perhaps 'good moms' have messy kitchens. Perhaps we as mothers should aspire to be GREAT moms, and have a clean place for our kids to grow-up in as well.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Easter Runaway
Tonight while doing dishes I saw the Dictator randomly go to our entryway, open the front door, and then start to walk out. Curious about what she was doing, I asked her "Hey, where are you going?"
The Dictator: "Oh, nowhere. I'm just running away now. Yeah....I just need to run away. Bye."
Our neighborhood is pretty safe, and from the kitchen I can see our entire block, so I decided to let this play out a little longer and see what she'd do.
The Dictator went outside, wandered around our patio and then went down the block just to the next house over. She looked back at our house, and then wandered back home.
Coming in the door, she says to me "Momma. I need you to run away with me. It's too lonely to run away all alone. Can you come with me please? After you do dishes?"
And for your Easter funny.......
Laying on the couch tonight, the Dictator was avoiding going to bed as usual.
Me: "You know...you better get to sleep or the Easter Bunny won't be able to come and bring your basket."
The Dictator: "What? I have to be asleep? Like Santa? That stinks!"
Me: "Yup. You better to get to sleep before the sun comes up!"
The Dictator takes off running to her room
The Dictator: "Oh my God, the Easter bunny is coming! Fuck! I better get to sleep!"
The Dictator: "Oh, nowhere. I'm just running away now. Yeah....I just need to run away. Bye."
Our neighborhood is pretty safe, and from the kitchen I can see our entire block, so I decided to let this play out a little longer and see what she'd do.
The Dictator went outside, wandered around our patio and then went down the block just to the next house over. She looked back at our house, and then wandered back home.
Coming in the door, she says to me "Momma. I need you to run away with me. It's too lonely to run away all alone. Can you come with me please? After you do dishes?"
And for your Easter funny.......
Laying on the couch tonight, the Dictator was avoiding going to bed as usual.
Me: "You know...you better get to sleep or the Easter Bunny won't be able to come and bring your basket."
The Dictator: "What? I have to be asleep? Like Santa? That stinks!"
Me: "Yup. You better to get to sleep before the sun comes up!"
The Dictator takes off running to her room
The Dictator: "Oh my God, the Easter bunny is coming! Fuck! I better get to sleep!"
Monday, March 25, 2013
Addiction
Conversation overheard in my household tonight-
The Dictator: "I want to watch t.v."
The Politician" You are addicted to t.v. I think we need to take a break from it"
The Dictator "No! I am not addicted to t.v."
The Politician: "You are in denial. That's a sign of your addiction. Do we need an intervention?"
The Dictator: "No! I'm not in denial!" Followed with an angry (but light!) slap to the Politicians back
The Politician: "Your angry outburst is a sign of withdrawals, just another symptom of your disease. Once you admit you have a problem, I can help you work through it."
The Dictator: Looks at the Politician, covers her head up with a pillow and says "But I'm scared!"
LMBO. I think they've been secretly having marathon sessions of watching "Intervention" together when I'm not home.
The Dictator: "I want to watch t.v."
The Politician" You are addicted to t.v. I think we need to take a break from it"
The Dictator "No! I am not addicted to t.v."
The Politician: "You are in denial. That's a sign of your addiction. Do we need an intervention?"
The Dictator: "No! I'm not in denial!" Followed with an angry (but light!) slap to the Politicians back
The Politician: "Your angry outburst is a sign of withdrawals, just another symptom of your disease. Once you admit you have a problem, I can help you work through it."
The Dictator: Looks at the Politician, covers her head up with a pillow and says "But I'm scared!"
LMBO. I think they've been secretly having marathon sessions of watching "Intervention" together when I'm not home.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Balloon
The Dictator gets attached to things. I mean, crazy, "Single White Female" attached to things. Lord forbid you lose one of the people in a set, a stuffed animal or one of the worst crimes of all time- leave her water bottle at school! (We only have 5 million other water bottles!) There WILL be consequences. Her little OCD world must be perfectly aligned at all times. She's a collector. She's a little crow. She does not like when her perfectly put together little world does not work out the way she wants it to!
Today at the mall a young lady was giving out balloon animals. The Dictator was very excited to get one, and we patiently waited in line for over 20 minutes so that she could get the little yellow dog that she just could not live without. "Yellow Dog" (I was in charge of naming it. It was hot out. I was tired. I wore uncomfortable shoes. I never said I was creative with names anyways!) toured the mall with us. He practiced flying, doing a back float in the fountain (bad Yellow Dog!), went potty (why must everything we bring with us use the potty. sigh) and helped the Dictator try on shoes. It was a magical day for the Dictator and her balloon friend. In the car, on the ride home, she held Yellow Dog gently against her chest and sang to him. The world was a perfect, magical place.
Then we got home. Yellow Dog and the Dictator ran off upstairs for more magical, happy, balloon animal magic time. I heard happiness, running, laughing and then I heard a loud "Pop!" After that followed a hysterical scream from the Dictator. Running up the stairs I found her. Sitting in the sunlight. Holding what was left of her little yellow friend. He was just legs and one sad little ear. The rest was a deflated, sad string of a balloon. The Dictator was in tears, cradling her friend and saying "Oh no! Yellow Dog! Oh no!" over and over again. I admit, I really did feel her sadness. Her little magical world shaken. A place where balloon dogs just die on you! Right in the middle of playing 'jump on the pointy metal bowl Momma keeps on the coffee table' (I'm thinking this was probably what caused Yellow Dog's demise).
The Dictator ran to me and launched herself into my arms. "Why did Yellow Dog diiiiiiiiiiie?"
Me: "Balloon friends cannot live forever. Although Yellow Dog's time was short, he had a very nice life."
The Dictator: "He was my very best friend (did I mention the Dictator can be just a tiny bit dramatic?), I loved him. Now he's just dead" and then more tears. Lots of tears
Me: "We must remember the good times we had with Yellow Dog. Remember how he did a back float in the fountain? Or how he tried on the pink shoes and looked so nice?"
Inside, I am dying laughing right now. Although I do genuinely feel for my daughter, recalling the good times we had with the balloon animal we had for less than 3 hours, plus quite a bit of sun exposure is getting to be too much for me. Despite myself, I giggle. Oh dear God. The Dictator is going to own my ass now.
The Dictator :"Momma. Are you not sad that Yellow Dog is dead?"
Secretly, I'm thinking "No. I am actually quite happy! That balloon animal was bound to pop eventually, and it was like keeping a ticking time bomb in the house. You insisted upon swinging it about at my head and probably caused me at least 5 new gray hairs because I was stressing out that it was going to pop in my face any second. Good riddens to Yellow Dog!"
Me: "Oh honey! I am SO sad that Yellow Dog is dead!"
The Dictator: "I do not believe you."
Me: "What can I do to prove my sincerity?"
The Dictator "Help me make a funeral"
So we did. We said nice words, threw Yellow Dog into the bathroom trash can, covered him with toilet paper and vowed that the next balloon friend we brought home would NOT jump on the pointy bowl.
What the hell kind of sick person insists upon giving children balloon animals anyways? People that hate children. People that hate the parents of the children they hate.
Note to self. No more pet balloon animals. Too disappointing. I think we're going to stick with pet rocks from now on.
Today at the mall a young lady was giving out balloon animals. The Dictator was very excited to get one, and we patiently waited in line for over 20 minutes so that she could get the little yellow dog that she just could not live without. "Yellow Dog" (I was in charge of naming it. It was hot out. I was tired. I wore uncomfortable shoes. I never said I was creative with names anyways!) toured the mall with us. He practiced flying, doing a back float in the fountain (bad Yellow Dog!), went potty (why must everything we bring with us use the potty. sigh) and helped the Dictator try on shoes. It was a magical day for the Dictator and her balloon friend. In the car, on the ride home, she held Yellow Dog gently against her chest and sang to him. The world was a perfect, magical place.
Then we got home. Yellow Dog and the Dictator ran off upstairs for more magical, happy, balloon animal magic time. I heard happiness, running, laughing and then I heard a loud "Pop!" After that followed a hysterical scream from the Dictator. Running up the stairs I found her. Sitting in the sunlight. Holding what was left of her little yellow friend. He was just legs and one sad little ear. The rest was a deflated, sad string of a balloon. The Dictator was in tears, cradling her friend and saying "Oh no! Yellow Dog! Oh no!" over and over again. I admit, I really did feel her sadness. Her little magical world shaken. A place where balloon dogs just die on you! Right in the middle of playing 'jump on the pointy metal bowl Momma keeps on the coffee table' (I'm thinking this was probably what caused Yellow Dog's demise).
The Dictator ran to me and launched herself into my arms. "Why did Yellow Dog diiiiiiiiiiie?"
Me: "Balloon friends cannot live forever. Although Yellow Dog's time was short, he had a very nice life."
The Dictator: "He was my very best friend (did I mention the Dictator can be just a tiny bit dramatic?), I loved him. Now he's just dead" and then more tears. Lots of tears
Me: "We must remember the good times we had with Yellow Dog. Remember how he did a back float in the fountain? Or how he tried on the pink shoes and looked so nice?"
Inside, I am dying laughing right now. Although I do genuinely feel for my daughter, recalling the good times we had with the balloon animal we had for less than 3 hours, plus quite a bit of sun exposure is getting to be too much for me. Despite myself, I giggle. Oh dear God. The Dictator is going to own my ass now.
The Dictator :"Momma. Are you not sad that Yellow Dog is dead?"
Secretly, I'm thinking "No. I am actually quite happy! That balloon animal was bound to pop eventually, and it was like keeping a ticking time bomb in the house. You insisted upon swinging it about at my head and probably caused me at least 5 new gray hairs because I was stressing out that it was going to pop in my face any second. Good riddens to Yellow Dog!"
Me: "Oh honey! I am SO sad that Yellow Dog is dead!"
The Dictator: "I do not believe you."
Me: "What can I do to prove my sincerity?"
The Dictator "Help me make a funeral"
So we did. We said nice words, threw Yellow Dog into the bathroom trash can, covered him with toilet paper and vowed that the next balloon friend we brought home would NOT jump on the pointy bowl.
What the hell kind of sick person insists upon giving children balloon animals anyways? People that hate children. People that hate the parents of the children they hate.
Note to self. No more pet balloon animals. Too disappointing. I think we're going to stick with pet rocks from now on.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Snuggle
As we're preparing to move (next week! Woah!), I find myself able to sleep less and less. This move has been pretty stressful, and even in these last few days before we are supposed to pack up our lives and relocate ourselves, we still aren't sure if we'll have a house ready to move into. Although I rationally know there is nothing I can do at this point to change the outcome, my mind still races well into the wee hours of the night with different scenarios and possible solutions. I've always been 'the fixer'. If you need something, advice, help, etc, I'm a good person to ask. I like to help. I've been told somewhat too much at times. Not being able to fix something drives me insane. So, I lay in bed at night and stare at my fan and go through a zillion and one different ways next week could play out for us. Being the eternal pessimist, the outcomes are usually never very good. Being a creative person, I'm able to REALLY stretch the possibilities out.
Last night I was laying in bed. Once again thinking about everything that's happening in my life right now. So far, 2013 has been a year of change. At this point it's hard to say whether or not this change is a good thing. Letting myself mull over all the details, I found it was already 2am. Trying to force myself to sleep, I heard the Dictator come into the bedroom. She got her usual drink of water, put her book on my nightstand and got in bed with me.
The Dictator: "Momma. You're still awake? Are you tired? You should sleep."
Me: "Momma can't sleep. My brain won't turn off."
The Dictator: "Momma, I'll hold you until you fall asleep. I'll cuddle you and keep you safe now and you can rest."
And she did. She literally wrapped her arms around me and patted my back while humming. And I fell asleep.
I felt her get up awhile later. She slipped her arm out from under me, kissed me on the forehead and said "Rest up Momma. I love you." I don't think she noticed that there were tears in my eyes.
My daughter amazes me.
Last night I was laying in bed. Once again thinking about everything that's happening in my life right now. So far, 2013 has been a year of change. At this point it's hard to say whether or not this change is a good thing. Letting myself mull over all the details, I found it was already 2am. Trying to force myself to sleep, I heard the Dictator come into the bedroom. She got her usual drink of water, put her book on my nightstand and got in bed with me.
The Dictator: "Momma. You're still awake? Are you tired? You should sleep."
Me: "Momma can't sleep. My brain won't turn off."
The Dictator: "Momma, I'll hold you until you fall asleep. I'll cuddle you and keep you safe now and you can rest."
And she did. She literally wrapped her arms around me and patted my back while humming. And I fell asleep.
I felt her get up awhile later. She slipped her arm out from under me, kissed me on the forehead and said "Rest up Momma. I love you." I don't think she noticed that there were tears in my eyes.
My daughter amazes me.
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