The In-Love Days

Alright, since I've made it a habit of making unpopular, subversive statements I figured I may as well just put the nail in the bad-Mama coffin today.

I am not always in love with my kid.

There.

Judge me now.  It's ok.  I expected it.

Now, I may be mistaken, but it appears as if there are some Mamas out there who ooze lovey-dove-i-ness at every coo, every clap, every chubby hand covered in yogurt or hummus or something equally as difficult to get out of your sweater.  Or, maybe it just seems that way when every Facebook status they ever post is something to that effect.   I admire these Mamas-sometimes.  I'm jealous of them- a lot of the times.  I feel inferior next to them- all the time.

Why, you ask?

Because I've yelled at my 15 month old who can't possibly understand why I don't want her chewed up strawberry in my mouth- even if she is trying to, "share" like a good girl.

Because I've done her laundry begrudgingly on occasion, bemoaning that she will only remove all her clothes ten minutes after I put them on her.

Because I've felt resentful for no apparent reason- for things she, quite obviously, has no control over and then wonder if she ever has silent conversations with God asking him why he thought our house was the best placement for her.

Now, I hope, certainly, that you are still following me.  Here is where I want to make sure you have understood the clarification.

I always love my daughter.  Will always cry when she hurts, always protect her and provide for her.  I will always, always love her.  But there are times, when I don't like her very much.

Today, however, was not one of those times.

Today, she kissed me, unprovoked, right on the lips.

Today, she patted the top of my big toe covered in a bandage from stepping on a piece of glass and said, "Boo-boo? Awhhhhhhh."

Today, while in the bathtub, she was singing a lovely little gibberish song and then ended it with a, "Yeahhhhhhh, Mama!!!"

Today, she let me cuddle her and read her story after story after story and pointed to my mouth singing, "La, la, la" to cue me to sing her her bedtime song.  So I did.  Again and again.  And she hugged my neck.  And whispered softly.  "Mama."

Today, I am in love with daughter.  So much so that I almost didn't want her to go to sleep.

Almost.

It's my parental experiment to try to hold onto to the, "in love "days when the "I don't like you so very much" days creep in.