Every night, after I have climbed into bed, read my book for a while, and finally switched off the lamp on my night stand, I close my eyes and whisper, "I love you Sophie Gene." She doesn't know I do this, and I don't really do it out of habit or a sense of duty. I guess I do it because when everything is quiet, and I'm ready to let the day slip away, it's the last thing I think.
Like nearly everyone on the planet, I'm plagued by the big questions. What's the point? Why am I here? Is any of this real? As a young child, I often entertained the solipsistic thought that the world was just a kind of huge joke or test, created just for me to stumble through and figure out. The bottom line is I don't know anything. The world may be an illusion. Everything I think is true may end up being false. But--the one thing that I KNOW, beyond any doubt, that will never ever change, is that I love my baby girl.
Of course, last night, after whispering my evening benediction, I heard the tell tale click of her door opening, then my door opening, then saw her little face appeared next to me, saying "Mommy--I'm hungry." She wasn't. She just couldn't sleep because I let her take a four hour nap yesterday afternoon. I knew at the time that those four lovely hours to myself would bite me in the ass, and they did. We had a LONG night. Up and down every hour or two. Now I'm completely exhausted and will have to slog (a word?) through this day in a sleep deprived haze.
So--I took her to day-care (she still goes one day a week even though school's out--I want her to keep some continuity so she won't freak out when I go back to work in the fall. Yes, yes--I also relish having 1/2 a day to just have my OWN agenda with no Care Bears or popsicles or dress-ups) went and got a tall sugar-free Macciato (totally misspelled. p.s. While the gal was making it, I watched her put the real caramel on top--not the sugar free. I figure those calories don't count because it was someone else's mistake.) and am going to make myself go through Sophie's toys and organize them, then clean the house, then go to work for a couple of hours.
Today's best thing about being a mom:
I used this one, I think, in my first blog, but I guess there are no rules against repeats. Having someone in your life to love unconditionally--even after they spread packing peanuts all over the house and keep you up all night and sneak the bananas out of kitchen and smash them into the carpet with their feet and say shit in front of grandma--is quite a gift.
Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Watching "Care Bears the Movie," "Care Bears to the Rescue," and "Care Bears: The Big Race" in one day is enough to make me jealous of those parents who don't allow TV in their houses.