While you are usually the source of most of my exasperated, "Can you believe this stuff?"* posts, after the morning we had today, I had to take the opportunity to eat some humble pie.
When I got out of the shower exhausted from the long week, ready for the day to be over before it had begun, as it was pissing rain and cold, #1, there you were with your outrageous bedhead, holding your babies against your face to enjoy their comforting stench (you really need to let me wash those soon), whispering a quiet, "Good morning" with your shy morning smile. While I dressed, you asked me if you could wash your face and handing you a washcloth you replied, "No, like you do" and when that was done you insisted on dressing in track pants, like the ones I was wearing, and asked me to make your sister's lunch on the table, rather than at the counter so "you could be next to me". You asked if you could help make your lunch and in the middle of a peanut butter explosion told me, "I love doing things like you. Can we do it every morning?"
#2, even you, who despises mornings more than Dracula himself, came bounding into the living room this day, tripping over the hem of your too-long nightgown, dragging your pillow, babies, and essentially the entire contents of your bed into the room, with a happy, "'Morning, Mom." rather than skulking over to the couch with a scowl on your face, as you usually do, mumbling a gravel-voiced request for milk. After your sister got off to school, you had a hugging festival on the couch with Little Man, and didn't even scream when he tried to abscond with your bowl of cantaloupe. Since you overslept and we were running late, I expected a morning full of constant cajoling to "please hurry up" and subsequent tears, but I, truly, was proven wrong when I heard you call from the living room, "Don't come in. I want to surprise you!" and after a few moments, there you were, all dressed, telling me, "I even went pee-pee!"
Girls, how do I deserve mornings like this? Me, who is planning on earning a living describing your antics and the toll they take on me (your father included, but he forgot to make the milk cups this morning so he can kiss my behind*). How is it possible, with the amount of yelling I do, how tired and grumpy I'm sure I must seem to you at times, how little time I feel I have for each of you individually, that you know when I'm am at my wits end and give me a morning that makes me see, so very clearly, why I am here? That you love me with such abandon, when I feel like all I do is complain about what I have given up for you, shows me how much I am given.
I will hold the images of this morning in my mind for a long time. #1, you standing all long-giraffe legs, in your pj top and underwear, on a chair at the kitchen counter, trying so hard not to cover yourself and the entire kitchen in peanut butter and using a whole roll of scotch tape to reattach a wayward juice box straw as you made your lunch. #2, the prideful glee emanating from your little face when you presented yourself, fully clothed. What was your happy response to my frantic-we-are-late-and-it's-my-turn-to-carpool "Where are you?"? "I'm getting my soos (shoes) on for you!"
Thank you my girls, for being my girls. And while you are the butt of many jokes around here, please know, without you, there would be no Mean Mommy - real or online.
Mommy
*Gotta keep the language clean since I am actually writing as if my children read this, ya know?
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