I lay here at 12:11am thinking. I just finished feeding your baby sister, her warm round cheeks and wet puckered lips kissed a hundred times, but I still think about you.
Lately, I’ve gotten angry with you. I get upset at you for getting upset, when I should be holding you letting you know it’s alright. I do that, just not near enough. You probably wonder why I put my head down and hold back tears when you’re yelling and throwing toys out of frustration. At first, I’m angry because you’re throwing a fit, but after I take that deep breath, my heart hurts because I don’t like seeing you unhappy. I’m torn between letting you cry, and making you stop because you shouldn’t throw fits. It’s hard, but someone has to do it.
I’m sorry. I’m just a person, and I don’t have a clue what to do, so I’m doing the best I know how. You’re so sweet and wonderful and amazing! So it kills me when you turn into an angry little girl. You’re better than that, but I have to remember that you’re just a little girl who still gets mad. You get mad because you can’t get your shoes on by yourself, or can’t get that toy into your silly shopping cart. You’ve failed a hundred times, yet you still try. I stand there watching, knowing that it’s not going to ever fit, yet, when I say something, you insist. So, I let you be mad and throw things for a minute. Then I bend down, offer a new solution, dry your tears and kiss your sweet little sad face, and it once again is all okay.
As I lay here, I hear you cough in your room, and I wonder if you will climb into my bed again in the early hours. You’ll climb in, push me over, demand to have my entire pillow, and I’ll be too exhausted to fight it. After all, it is just a pillow. You’ll kick the blanket off because you don’t like being covered, and I’ll try in a desperate attempt to get warm again. But how can I be mad when you wake up and kiss my face and tell me that it’s time to wake up? How can I not love the little girl sitting there begging for apple juice and breakfast?
I don’t know what else to say, my dearest. I love you to the moon and back, and though I may get angry, it’s only because I feel as though I can’t do it right. Yet, I look at you, and I know that somewhere, somehow, I’m getting it right.
Goodnight my dear sweet girl, mommy loves you.