Motherhood is tricky, tricky. There are moments (few and far between at this age) when you want to throw your baby across the room because she won’t sleep, or feels like she has exclusive rights to your boobs and needs comforting for 6 hours straight, or simply because you haven’t gotten out of the house in 3 days. And those moments pass pretty quickly because then she smiles that first smile and you pretty much willingly become her prison bitch all over again.
And then there’s the quiet moments when you’re just laying on the bed together, talking back and forth complete baby nonsense, and you check out those amazingly small toes, and you think, “Love love love love love love love.” It’s not really a coherent thought – more of this bursting feeling in your chest. Like fireworks going off right inside your rib cage.
Stinkin’ motherhood. It’s a real heart killer. I think back to bad breakups I’ve had…. failed marriages, cheaters, losers and numerous people who have broken my heart. And I think, “That’s nothing compared to the broken heart of being a parent.” Like… what if she decides to hate me later on in life? Or never speak to me again over a silly argument? Or have a bad accident?
Seriously. Screw you college boys that broke my heart! Y’all are PANSIES compared to this darling who could shatter and destroy me in a nanosecond!
That’s my girl. My heartbreaker. My love love love love.