Kiss More Often

I haven’t written in a long time.  Not because I have nothing to say, but because I literally feel like I have fought a war at the end of every day.  By the time I take care of the tiny person all day, do whatever household tasks need done, tend to the dogs, take care of any business matters, make some form of dinner, clean dinner up, get the kid in the bath, and get her to bed, I am too tired to form coherent sentences that are worth reading.  But this evening I got off lucky, and she went to bed without much of a struggle.  As I laid her down, I thought to myself, “how much longer am I going to be rocking her to sleep and carrying her to bed?”  I go back and forth on enjoying rocking her for what feels like hours, to dreading it, to enjoying it again.  And tonight, I didn’t really want to put her in the bed.  I wanted to keep holding her, smelling her, touching her.  But, she pointed her little finger out, and said in the sweetest voice, “bed”.  So, bed is where I put her.

She’s about be 22 months old.  Which is annoying to say.  I really just want to say 1, but when I do, people tell me how big she is.  And then if I say “almost 2”, people ask how many months she is.  I feel like I’ve been counting months forever.  But regardless, she’s about to be 2.  And I can’t really even digest that.  Didn’t I just have her?  Didn’t I just spend hours and hours and hours in a hospital wishing to God she would appear so the mind numbing contractions and annoying nurse would go away?  Didn’t I just learn how to hold her properly and feed her?  It feels like yesterday, and hundred years ago, all at the same time.  Having a baby is like being caught in some weird time warp.  When you finally come up for air, and take a moment to look around, your kid is 2, your body is completely different, your brain is mush, and your heart is so full it explodes on a daily basis.

I didn’t enjoy being pregnant.  Well, I did from 6-8 months.  The rest was stupid.  I didn’t enjoy having a newborn.  That crap was so painfully hard I wanted to run away from my life every second of every day.  I had a terrible time adjusting to motherhood.  Parts f it  came naturally, as instinct kicked in, but my brain fought me every single step of the way and never let me find peace in motherhood.  My heart is all that kept me around.  I couldn’t abandon that little crying, pooping, needy person and her father.  I wanted to, but I couldn’t.  Looking back, I probably needed to talk to someone about it, but my pride didn’t let that occur.

But here I am, almost 2 years in, and it’s so much fun.  Life is not without challenges, and that 1st year took a big toll on my mental state, my physical state, & my marriage. But, things are getting really, really good, and I look forward to my time with Emma.  I never ever thought for one moment my best friend would be a tiny little human, but it is.  I am obsessed with all 26 lbs of her big green-eyed, unruly curly-headed, cutest voice ever, adorable feet having self.  She understands me, and I understand her. We have this weird connection that I know can only exist within a mom and child.  I love that it’s something no one else has with her.   I love watching her evolve and grow.  It’s such a fascinating thing to see it occur right before my eyes.  She’s the most beautiful little person with the sweetest soul.  I hope I don’t mess that up.

She knew I was frustrated today.  She was crying in the kitchen right when my husband called needing something time sensitive for work.  She can be quite demanding when she wants something, so she just proceeded to get louder and louder as I tried to talk to Erich.  She hates when she wants something, and is ignored, but don’t we all?  Anyway, I cut my phone conversation short because I can’t think with a screaming person on the side of me head, and looked at her, with what I can only assume is my “mom look”.  She reached over to my face, pulled it in her direction, and kissed me right smack on the lips.  All that anger and frustration I was feeling just melted away. Gone. Instantly.        She can do that voodoo so well.

When she went down for a nap, I reflected on that little scene in the kitchen.  I was impressed what a great emotion escalator she was, and at the same time a complete de-escalator.  As I thought about that, and sipped my coffee, I started reading through the wonderful world of Facebook, and scanning all the angry, angst filled comments on each news feed.  And, I thought to myself, “maybe the world just need more impromptu kisses.”  I think we’d all be happier if we kissed a little more often.

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