Call me Mommy pt. 7

The sweetest sound in the world to the thirsty eyes and ears of a parent is a child excitedly calling their name with the biggest smile their little cheeks can hold.

Five days without seeing my girl. Four nights without bedtime kisses. It’s a barren state of being when your reason for existing isn’t readily at your side. 

I’m being dramatic, but hey, I’m a fiction writer. 

It feels like so long since I have seen my baby girl, hardly a baby now at almost three years old, but the moment we walk through the door to pick her up from her grandparents, that smile, that hug, those kisses, make the world tilt right side up again.

“Mommy!” She yells. “Dahey!”

We need to work on pronouncing our D’s, but it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

I would do anything for that little smile, and those hugs are enough to melt you through. I finally feel whole again, and now, it’s beack to the old routine! Plus or minus a few sleepless nights as punishment for being gone so long.

Oh, the thinks I am thinking.

My daughter loves one of Dr. Seuss’s books, “Oh, the thinks you can think.” As most Dr. Seuss books are, this one is full of silly rhymes and random items thrown together, but it is also a parent’s nightmare because of how all over the place it is. It jumps from simple questions to complex, compound sentences with a rhyme scheme that doesn’t exactly match the previous page. It’s hard to find a rhythm. Certainly, not one of my favorite Seussian books, but she enjoys it.oh-thinks-you-can-think-dr-seuss

It does makes me think (see what I did there?) of how in the world that man could come up with such crazy, yet coherent books that even children love. I then let that thought train spiral into what and how my brain thinks, how my thoughts are formed, and how I see the world. Do I see it in a mix array of things that are all thrown together and forced into insane yet manageable cohesiveness like Dr. Seuss?

Nahh. I’m more of a logical mind in the sense that everything has its place, but I will admit there are times where my brain processes and clumps thoughts together so effortlessly that even I sometimes feel lost on how the train got to that station.

Our minds are such curious things, and I think I’ve just learned to appreciate the genius in Dr. Seuss’s book. It’s like a challenge to not only the child reading the book, but to the adult. I think even Disney once said that “Even adults were children once.” Maybe they are both on to something. As we become adults, we may need a reminder to think more like children, with an open mind to all the thinks we can think.

Now I’m thinking of planning a trip to Disney. Where’d that train come from?

Pride and Parenting

​Umm, what just happened here?

My daughter who is now two years old just asked to be put right in bed after good night kisses. She gave hugs and pointed at her bed and said “crib”. She’s now asleep, and I’m kind of at a loss. 

From nursing her to sleep, rocking, then just cuddles to now. I’m a little heartbroken and relieved. Relieved that I didn’t ruin her potential sleep independence and that I may no longer have to spend hours trying to put her to sleep. At the same time, I’m heartbroken because she doesn’t need me for this small piece of her life anymore.

Is this how parenting is throughout your kid’s life? Happy when they prove you raised them right, but sad when they don’t need you like they used to?

Mind you, the night before we had only maybe slept four hours because little miss decided to wake up in the middle of the night and not go back to sleep. Even during those following days of similar nights, she would still want us to stay with her in her room, cuddling, until she fell asleep. 

This night is new, and the start of a new milestone for her, I’m sure of it. I’m just as sure that there will be setbacks, each of which I will cherish preciously knowing they too will come to an end, but this new step has really brought another secret of parenting no one shares with you to light.

I used to think pride was a seven deadly sin, and in some forms I think it could still be one, but now I know, it’s a parents greatest attribute. 

We are so proud of our children as they grow and master even the smallest skills, but it is also that pride that keeps us seemingly strong when we want to breakdown with the realization that our children will one day no longer need us as drastically as they do now. It’s our pride that gets us through the tough years, days, and hours. It’s how big our heart swells and breaks at the same time when we look at the achievements of our children. 

Here I am, sobbing over the fact that my two year old no longer needs me to put her to sleep anymore because I am so proud of her, but it’s my pride that is keeping me somewhat together and elated that she is growing into an independent child.

I’ll definitely be hugging her a little tighter in the morning. It’ll be all too soon that I’ll become embarrassing, and my pride might not save me then.