I’m not going to sugar coat it Berlyn, you’ve been a real pain in my ass lately. You don’t listen to my words, instead they fall on the floor and get pushed around by tiny feet. You pout and whine when princess hair gets tangled and shoes get lost. Well, I have news for you Missy, this world is filled with tangled princess hair and lost shoes, and even with all your pouting it still doesn’t detangle the world. Maybe, that whining works on your grandparents so why don’t you go over there for a few days while I sweep up this floor that’s littered with scraps of crayon wrappers, dog hair, and my lost words?
You’ve become a wrecking ball in the morning, clumsily swinging your bad mood ball into me and your daddy and anything else that gets in your way. You used to be chirpy and giddy in the mornings; a present day Snow White, kissing blue birds and waving at the sunshine, but now you stomp into our bedroom and smack the mattress right by my head to wake me up. It’s about as pleasant as having an inflamed eyelid zit.
You say, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, MOMMY, MOMMY, MOMMY!” until I say, “Yes Berlyn?” and I have to remind myself to take a slow steady breath when I deal with you, because if not I’ll turn into an evil beast with a low booming voice that makes your eyes widen with fear and trembling.
You’re abrasive with your brother; always crushing his baby spirit by saying things like, “NO! You’re doing it wrong, Hudson! The song goes: ‘Twinkle Twinkle’ not ‘Weenkle Weenkle’!”
Oh, and then there’s the times when you cry, and that’s the worst, Because it’s your fake cry, and your fake cry makes me want to real cry, and other times your fake cry makes me laugh. I should apologize, but it’s true. It’s one of those things that you’ll understand when you have children of your own.
And lastly, let’s not forget this conversation that you like to have with me every week or so, “Mommy, I love you times 100, but I love Daddy times 1000.”
But because I know you’ll read this someday and think, Um Mom, didn’t you have anything nice to say about me?!
I will have this to say: as I think back on your five years of life, I am reminded of the verse in Proverbs, “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”
As much as I think I’m teaching you about life, your ABC’s and that a one cannot sustain proper health on jelly beans and Ritz crackers alone, you are teaching me about life.
You have taught me what it means to love wildly and without conditions, being born first you have taught me what it means to be a mother and a woman, you have taught me how to truly be giving and selfless, even when I’m tired and headachy, and I think I’m all out nurturing, I still have some left for you.
I always have some left for you, because you are my dear one. And I’ve loved you from the moment I first nuzzled your newborn head against my flustered and sweaty cheek. And since then, you have captivated me with your wit, your laughter, your funny faces and your creativity. You are adorable with your words, and always have something silly to share with me. I am amazed at how you can do so much on your own. Just now, you read two books to me all by yourself before I tucked you into bed. Your babiness has all but slipped away, and I now have a beautiful little girl as my daughter.
You have defined my role in this world, and you keep me humble and sane.
So thank you Berlyn for teaching me how to be a mommy.
I love you times 1000.
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