Sometimes I can’t believe I’m a mommy.
Today, I let Sierra stay all day in the same things she had slept in all night – a pink footie sleeper, old pink fleece pants, a purple GAP sweatshirt with a hood, and a huge old-fashioned purple and blue striped sleeper from Oma overtop of it all. Let’s just say she looked like a mismatched snowman. But, on the bright side, she was warm! (That was the idea.) AND she was adorably cute, tottering around in that getup.
Until she got bored of her toys. First, she pulled down a few piles of laundry I had just folded and gotten ready to pack for her for the holidays. Then, she went into Mommy and Daddy’s room, closed the door, and screamed to be let out again. Three times. After a while of being in and out of Mommy’s arms and getting into various forms of trouble (including emptying one of the kitchen cupboards), she wound up in the bathroom (not a good scenario, I know) with my makeup all over the floor, a long, slender finger poke down the center of a chapstick, and, just before I grabbed her, her mouth came down on a tube of polysporin. Oh boy. Is that stuff poisonous? Let’s just say, she was not impressed. Rolling on the floor, scratching at her tongue. Apple juice couldn’t fix it. Kisses couldn’t fix it. Distractions didn’t work.
Eventually she landed in the highchair with a cookie, and after a few rounds with Mommy on whether or not touching the shiny wrapping paper on the table was a good idea or not, Daddy called. HE WAS DONE HIS EXAMS!!!! While Mommy was trying to celebrate with him, all Sierra could do was scream. In a bad way. Very loudly, so that Mommy and Daddy couldn’t hear each other talking. (That was the idea, I think.)
Oh dear. What was Mommy doing all this time? Hmm. Let’s see . . . I think all I have to show for this day was a string of half-finished jobs. 🙂 Maybe I’ll get better at this whole Mommy thing eventually?
But I love this job – every bit of it. I love it how she makes fake grumpy faces at me and pretends to cry just so she can get an excuse to hug me. I love how she pretends her dollies are crying so she can hug and rock them. I love how she prompts me to pretend to cry so that she can pat my back, rub my arm, and give me kisses. I love how she laughs hysterically at every face I make, how she points to her eyes and nose when asked where they are, but has to wiggle her tongue around for “mouth”. I love how she can’t go to bed for the night without giving Daddy a goodnight kiss, and how insistent she is about that. I love how she points and exclaims, “Wow!” when she spots a playground from a distance. I love the way she sometimes grabs her daiper and tells me, “Yucky!” when she wants a change. I love it that she has practically no hair. I really do. Other kids her age look like toddlers already, while she is my baby for just a little longer . . . I love how she likes to pretend to brush her hair, how she gobbles her oatmeal with fruit in the morning, how her mouth is just filled with little pearly white teeth. I love it that she loves to sniff the crayons and is fascinated with the different colors and putting them on paper. I love how when she sees a picture of herself, she exclaims, “Daddy!” I love how she pretends to do push-ups on her playmat. I love how she wants to join the family circle when Mommy and Daddy are *ahem* hugging. I love how good she is getting at building block towers, and how she claps her hands after every one put successfully on the stack. I love how she sings to herself all the time and dances when she hears music. I love how when she is upset, Daddy’s guitar is the best (sometimes the only) cure. I love the way small things like silver wrapping paper catching the light and heaters that have switches on the tops and books with bright colors and doors that swing open and closed and drawers with interesting things inside and lights with cool switches and shower curtains and toilet flushers and spoons and many other things are wondrous, fascinating, engrossing, mind-boggling, intensely interesting things in her world. I love all these things about her and a million more, and I love how most of these are things known best by me. A Mommy.