Firework

Once upon a time you happened. That moment I was in the bathroom. First floor of our house. I realized I was pregnant. I then found out it was a girl. My dreams and hopes of a little me was coming true.

After 9 long months of pregnancy came you. My baby girl.

I did all the thing I thought I should. I bathed you often, taking care of every detail. Your water, diapers, warm wipes, lotions and towels. Every part of you being. And my care for you was always first priority.

Every moment with you has been amazing. You are just a ray of sunshine when you enter a room. From your ‘All about Me’ attitude, your sassy but sweet approach to each day.

You grew into long blonde hair, big blue eyes, your tiny in size, but again show your mother’s side of pure feisty when anyone challenges you.

 

Your creative, your funny, your outgoing, love to dance, sing, and just be. And this my baby girl is you. The creature who took over my heart and reason for being.

Not that I ever intended to grow up, or be adult like. I for some reason realized I didn’t like children, small does of children, sure, but for to long of time, or if for some reason they got to whiney, or needy, my dislike for them grew.

So being your MOM and a Stay At Home Mom at that, I quickly realized I had to get over my loathing of whiney needy children.

I’ve instead realized that you, like so many other children are the way for adults to remember. To remember that we are all whiney needy people.

That need to be reminded to live. Out loud.

To laugh. At everything. To smile when your mom is ‘frustrated’ or ‘angry’ over barking dogs and spilt milk. To remind her that it’s life. It’s ok.

That’s you. You remind me.

You remind me of the kid that I once was, not only do you fill my heart with love of being your mom, but you make me, me again.

I’m sorry for the PPD. It was a part of me that pulled us apart. Well to me it did. You still look at me every day as if I’m some sort of amazing person. You say I’m the best mommy, the best cook, the funniest. I think I could be better for you. For both of you.

Now being pregnant with the two of you only being 22 months apart it wrecked my brain. I thought I was stronger then PPD. I thought I couldn’t go crazy. I wasn’t on meds, I didn’t see a shrink, I was just dealing with a new life, with two new people to care for. Little people at that.

Barking dogs, screaming kids, whiney kids, husband working 3 jobs, no money, laundry, housework and trying to find the new me all with out losing the old me in the mix, caused me to be in some serious denial of Post Partum Depression.

Often you called me ‘Sad mommy’ or ‘angry mommy’ needing time outs (that’s how I would handle a meltdown) but I feel that I took from you. I took from our time together, and now with your brother I feel I did the same.

But it’s been 5 years my baby. 5 LONG years. Of you and me. Adding in your brother. All of it makes us who we are, and what we are. All this stems from the fact that today was your Preschool graduation.

OMG. I cried typing that out. Pre.school. is OVER for you. I remember your first day. You were SO excited. I was SO upset. I sat in that parking lot and sobbed.
Today I sat with family, and the great preschool mom friends I have made, I cried that in 8 months you went from little girl, just 4 years old to all of a sudden your getting a diploma and the tell me you’re a Kindergartener?! From 3 days a week for 2.5 hours a day. To ALL day on a bus school?! And need I remind you that your FIFTH birthday. Yes 5 is coming up? Two weeks and a day?!

So yesterday I surprised you and POWER cleaned your room. I mean ALL the clothes on the floor, the toys, the mess. It took me ALL day. CLEAN. The mess is of coarse yours, but part my fault. Those clothes went back as far as 24 months. (party lazy me, part that I couldn’t let go, and part I LOATHE laundry of any kinds) Some child with less then you will enjoy them.  And we can go on enjoying your wonderful room.

Writing you this I’m trying to figure where I’m going with it. Is it a “I’m sorry I didn’t give my all the last 5 years” I thought I did then. Looking back I feel like I didn’t. Or is this a “Holy Canoli my baby is growing up SO fast and I can’t hold on to her so I need to jump on and just enjoy the ride” I think it’s both.

As I learned with Maggie May, I didn’t pick her out at the pet store. She picked out me. As did you. Sure I made you, I created you my little human, but you. YOU make me who I am now. You teach me, if not more then I teach you. To be me. To let us be us. If I just LET you and me pick out who we want to be.

To not fight the angry whiney needy child in either of us.

But to embrace who we are. My baby and I. To remember you are me. You’re a tiny version of me, in a WHOLE new world. Let’s enjoy this ride my princess.

In the words of you “Girls only, right mom?” (when your dad is at work and your brother is napping and we have snuck to the art room for some us time)

“Can this just be a girl day?” (when your brother is still asleep and you’ve woken me at 7 am on the weekend)

And hoping that you forget, that there was ever these words uttered by you “Mom I wish you weren’t always angry mommy then sad mommy”

Let’s make this the best summer ever My Bella.

You Feisty Mom.

xoxo…

The Angry Mom

I went to bed at 10:02 pm. Pretty early, but good to get into the habit since I enjoy my morning silence.

Woke up at 5:23 just a few minutes before Spaghetti is off to work, earliest I’ve been up in a long time. Nice to see him before he leaves for work.

I lay back in bed and decide to flip around on tv, nothing much. Some infomercials, Full House, decided on Boy Meets World. Then at 6:08, Bagel is knocking on my door.

I’m not the old me. The old me, that would infuriatingly yell at her daughter to go back to bed. And leave me alone AT least till there is a 7 on the clock!

It was the newer me. The me who stops myself from yelling. But I still was grumbly. Telling her to give me a minute. My bad for thinking getting up at 5:30 was going to give me so much ‘me time’ I needed to go in the bathroom for a minute.

Sigh. Never mind.

We go down from the second floor, as Weaky sleeps in. (thankyouverymuch) I start the coffee, and start to eat a banana. Bagel comes in, and sits at the sliding glass door, looking out to the deck.

I then remember that today we are going to Kindergarten Round up, to register Bagel for school.

I sit on the floor rug next to her. Just me and her.

Normally there are two big boxers all in our face if we sit on the floor, or her brother wanting to sit too, some one is whining, someone is crying, a dog is barking, and SO much needs to be done, I don’t have the patience to sit there.

 

 

Today was different. Maybe it’s because my baby is going to Kindergarten. Her 5th birthday is right around the corner. I only see this girl. A 15 month old baby. But in reality I have this… a feisty big girl.

       

No longer a baby, sassy, mind of her own, and when I’m paying attention ONE creative chica.

She’s smart. She writes her name, draws pictures well. Sings, plays. Loves markers over crayons, but paint is her favorite. She’s a play-doh junkie. If I had to explain her in Disney terminology she would be a

Tink.

She’s silly, and cute like Tinkerbell. She’s got the feisty fire in her like a Tinkerbell. But my favorite part? She’s a Tinkerer.

My dad is, I am for sure, and so it’s only fit that my Mia is not as girly as she looks, she’s very hands on and I love it.

 

BUT she is a girl, and she loves to dress up, let’s not forget the Tinker part, so add in a bit of princess (but not to much) and you get Rapunzel. Part princess but barefoot, and strong minded. Open to explore, and enjoy adventures.

That is my Bagel.

And as I sat with her this morning, at the sliding glass door, I realized that my baby was getting big. And I need to stop being poor me, and take that quiet morning with my baby girl and enjoy every second, before she’s too cool to hang out with me, or to sit with me and talk about the melted snow.

As we sat in silence for a minute. She looks at me and says “Mom. I like you right now. Like that time I was in the tub and told you that your usually sad or mad. Not now. Now your nice and happy. Will you stay this way”

Sigh. I hope so Bagel. I hope the PTSD me, the PPD me, is gone. I will always look over my shoulder, knowing I won’t be the carefree me before kids, but trying to laugh more every day and do what one amazing mom once told me to do.

She said that ALL we need to do in this life is breathe. Just. Breathe. So I breathe.

I said to Bagel, I hope that I can stay this way. And instead of shooing her off to the tv room, so I can sit on the lap top, we finished the morning, with some marker art. She drew me flowers, and said “remember the other day when you showed me how to draw a flower with petals and leaves and the grass?! I did that and look! Just like you showed me”

She drew a lion blue, with orange fur. A map of how to get to bed. A page of hearts for how much she loves me. Her hand traced then rainbow colored in. And a family portrait with names by each of us.

We worked on a foam door hanger of a monkey and then she played with her play-doh ice cream maker. I taught her how to roll the doh in her hands to make a perfect ball. Then she played with her magnet dolls on the mini fridge.

A great morning of fun and some real one on one time. Note to self. Take the time, slow down, and enjoy your baby while she will still have you.

Feisty.