I walk in your room and you’ve destroyed it again. Your mattress is on the floor, you’ve taken off your diaper and I just stepped in poop, you’ve peed on the floor, everything is out of your drawers and it smells like a pig barn in there. You sit in the middle of it with your fingers in your ears just in case I yell and say “I peed, Momma”.
I could get angry, I could scream and rant and rave. But I don’t. Even though it’s 5 a.m. and this is the last thing I want to deal with right now. This happens every day and yelling does nothing except make you upset…and me too. I ask you not to do it again, I clean it up as best I can for 5 a.m., get you settled in bed and start my day.
Is this what I want to do multiple times a day? No. Do I wish that you didn’t do things like this constantly? Yes. Would I trade you for anything in the world? No.
It’s so easy to get caught up in the burdens. The diapers, the mess, the constant care-giving. I choose to focus on the joy.
The way you belt out the lyrics to “Someone that I used to know” and “Pumped up kicks” in the back of the car. The way you make your brothers laugh. Your freckles. Your long, colt-like legs in jean shorts. When you look at me and tell me I’m beautiful. How you watch the director’s commentary on Tom and Jerry so you can hear them say “Wacky half-nose” and “scruffy little bear” because it makes you laugh. How you love alliterations in books and giggle when I say them. The way you choose your stuffed animals as if they were friends.
You bring us joy in so many ways. I choose to focus on that.