I wonder, do they know I love them, even when I am screaming at them from the top of my lungs? These little beings that know Mommy’s every button (except her secret ticklish spot which I will die before revealing*).
It’s so much worse when I am sick, and my defenses are down. They seem to know, and act doubly bad. It’s as if, “We just want to really, really want to make sure you still love us, Mommy. Do you love us always and forever Mommy? Even when we insist on cosleeping and then run over the top of your face at 2 a.m.? Or yank hard on a clump of your hair at midnight? Even when we find cherished mementos of your teen years and systematically destroy them? Even when we take the new loaf of bread, one of three foods you are allowed to eat while sick… Continue reading