Simple_life

I see you lying there in bed, trying to will yourself to get up. I know some part of you might wish you hadn’t woken up this morning – that you could fade away into nothingness because it seems a hell of a lot better than dealing with the demons you fight off daily in your head. I recognize that question in your eyes: “Is this life really worth all the effort?” And I see the moment when it all rushes back to you, when you remember why you keep fighting. I watch as you summon all your strength to push yourself out of bed because the baby is crying and the preschooler needs breakfast and you know you are needed. I feel your pain as you hold that precious baby and watch that “big boy” eat breakfast and wonder what you ever did to deserve such a gift and simultaneously hating yourself for ever wanting to disappear. The love you feel wells in equal proportion to your guilt, and you can’t decide if your tears are ones of joy and thanksgiving or shame and self-hatred. I witness you fight thro...

  I don’t want you to   grow up   .   Is that not fair?   I don’t want you to stop looking at me like I’m Superwoman. You make me feel like I can do anything, be anything.  I don’t want you to stop climbing into my bed so that I feel your small feet rubbing against my back. It may wake me up in the wee hours, but it fills my heart with joy. I don’t want your squeaky little voice to change. It’s perfect.  I don’t want you to keep growing out of your shoes and clothes faster than I can buy them. One day you’ll be as tall as I am, and some days I feel like that’ll come faster than I could ever imagine.   I don’t want you to stop using a pacifier or wanting a bottle of milk at bedtime. Because then you’ll be a big girl and you won’t be my baby anymore.   I don’t want your ”   Mommy, will you lay with me?”   requests to go away. You ask so nicely, your voice as sweet as can be. I’ve come to expect them each ...