You poor button. Something made you cry tonight. Maybe a bad dream, maybe a night terror, maybe something else. But you were crying and crying and crying, and kicking and screaming, and telling me to get out and to go away.
For 38 years, I thought I knew what restrooms were for. Showering, grooming, dental hygiene, and, you know, “resting.” After you girls were born, I was made privy to a beautiful and precious secret that you, too, will learn should you choose to become mothers someday...
You are a reflection of me. Not a perfect reflection; but like the reflection you might see in rippling water. I hear in your laughter my own laughter, I see in your smile my own smile. I witness in your temperament characteristics that I know exist in myself.
We bought this table from Ikea, from the "As-Is" section. That means it was probably used as a display and already had some nicks and dings. Daddy wasn't sure we should buy a table that was damaged. But I was sure that by the time you two reached high school, this table would bear the markings of many years of love, play, and work.
Since becoming a mother just over six years ago, I can't tell you how many hours I've spent sitting or driving in this car. I can't tell you how many tears have been shed, how many snacks have been consumed, or how many times either of you has fallen asleep in this car. I can't tell you how many drive-thrus this car has been through or how many cups of coffee I've consumed sitting right here. In many ways, this car has seen it all.
Some days, girls, I just can’t do it all.The laundry will sit in the dryer or in a basket, not put away. Breakfast might be the carrot cake you sneaked from the fridge and subsequently hid when I came looking, and I was so tired and so focused on getting to my coffee that I pretended I didn’t see. Lunch might be cheese and crackers. Or just cheese. The TV might be on, or the iPad might get unearthed. Dinner might be spliced together with microwaved versions of whatever I found in the fridge. Bath might be rushed and your story might get read faster than you’d like.