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my only sunshine
I was singing “You are my sunshine..my only sunshine…lah la la lah la….” (like I do all the live long day now) to Baby Bug today as I changed her diaper on the scratchy grass at the park, when suddenly it hit me: She is my sunshine. If she wasn’t with me, my skies would be so gray.
Sometimes I forget what life was like like before Baby Bug. What was it like not to be toting around a seventeen pound companion wherever I go? She goes everywhere with me. The laundromat, the grocery store, the gas station, the many many many public restrooms I must visit because I have a bladder the size of a pea.
So many times I have to tell her, “No, icky! Don’t touch that!” I don’t even know what it’s like to go to the bathroom by myself any more. Or get into the car without thinking about the windows being down so she doesn’t die of heat exhaustion before I can get her car seat buckled. I heft her in and out of her car seat about a thousand times a day. It’s like second nature. Like wearing a purse.
When I was a kid I used to always daydream about having a little pet mouse that could sit on my shoulder and talk to me all day long (and maybe whisper the answers to timed math quiz questions). Now, I have that constant companion. I might not understand what she is saying all the time but she definitely talks to me all day. I can’t wait until she’s old enough to do math for me.
When I sat there on the grass at the park, staring down at this little wiggly body who can’t wait to flip over and run away diaper- less to the sand box, I was suddenly hit with how very very sad I am going to be when she grows up and leaves me someday. Now it’s all making sense why some mothers refuse to let go of their children even when it is the best thing they can do for them.
Sure I’ll always have Toby and my hobbies and my cats and whoever else comes into my life between now and then… but she will always be my sunshine. My only sunshine.
p.s. I am aware that having this sort of epiphamy while changing a poopy diaper doesn’t really make for the most poetic visual but that’s what really happened. I’ve never been very good at writing fiction.
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Life Goes On…
I feel really bad being moody when there are so many people around me with real problems. Like my family for example. My brother and his wife are moving out of my parent’s house and it’s been a little bit testy for everyone. They love each other and everybody is going to be better off in the long run but you know how these things go. It’s kind of like a break up. Break-ups always hurt even if they are the right thing to do.
I hope I’m okay typing about this. (Please IM me, family, if I’m not and I will quickly delete these first paragraphs.) I’m not caught in the middle, thankfully. They know better than to do that to me. It’s not like my brother and his family are at horrible odds with my parents (or vise versa). It’s just a change. A big change. A big change with lots of growing pains and hurt feelings and little kids that get confused when the adults act on their emotions. You know how these things are. It’s scary for everyone. But I guess it’s part of growing up, no matter how old you are.
For now, just pray for my family. They need some extra care.
I’m plugging away as usual. Life goes on, doesn’t it? I’ve been pulling off the super-mom identity pretty well lately. Today at the grocery store when the checker asked me if I needed help out to my car, I shrugged, hoisted Baby Bug on my hip and said, “No. I’m super mom.” She laughed. I guess she doesn’t hear that every day.
I tell myself I’m a super mom every day. It’s how I make the daily grind less grinding. “You are a SUPER HERO!” I chant as I carry the groceries up the stairs and then later when I tote the over-flowing garbage down the stairs and Baby Bug whines and complains at the gate waiting for me. Being a mom and a domestic-keep-it-all-together expert is not a pretty job but somebody’s gotta do it. I hope you don’t mind me saying this but I think I do a pretty blankety blank good job.
Somebody’s gotta make coffee and keep the floor clean and remember what day to move the car so we don’t get a parking ticket. It’s kinda like being an office manager except I don’t have to unjam the copy machine any more. I unjam other things like the sink drains and baby feet that can’t get through pant legs.
