Thursday, May 7, 2015

TBT Mother's Day (Original 5/10/09)

When Danny was born, and I had no idea what to do...what songs to sing, how to bounce, how to get him to stop crying, Grammie swooped in, rocked and bounced a certain way, found a song he liked, and he snuggled right into his Grammie's arms happily.
And I thought, 'I'll never be as good at this as my mama. She knows everything. She can fix everything.'
And I probably won't ever be as good as she is, but...
I forgot that she cleaned up vomit, diarrhea, and countless spills.
I forgot that she patiently cured colds, and breathing ailments.
I forgot that she took temperatures and rubbed calamine lotion and held out her hand to catch whatever was coming out of whichever orafice without thinking how disgusting it was until it was all over.
For four kids.
No wonder she's so good.
All she ever got for that was children who ran to her, wrapped their arms around her neck, snuggled into her hug, and waited for her to rock and sing the Frog Song.
And Silly Mama, she thought this was enough.

And I realized yesterday, as Danny started to gag, and I held out my hands to catch his throw up (which by the way, never works... hands do not hold vomit well), I'm doing exactly what my mom always did...
Dad's working.
I'm sick.
Danny's sick.
And he just threw up all over the floor, and all over me, and all he wants to do is wrap his arms around my neck, but we're both covered in vomit.... and there's just no stopping him. He's going to get held one way or another....
And even vomit-covered, that little boy's hug, head on my shoulder, arms wrapped around my neck, was enough.
Silly Mama.

Maybe I will get there... eventually.

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