Surrender

Today was one of those days

That you

realize mommies aren’t perfect

That you

just like your mom

aren’t perfect either

and that

he accepts you

and loves you

in your imperfection

and

still thinks

you

are the sun

and the moon

and the stars

and the…

He is amazing, and together we are it all. Your hand’s on my chest, my heart. We share a pillow. You’ve refused to take a nap, and I surrendered. “Pat leg,” you begged through tears, through screams. You made me listen. But I already patted your leg for five minutes. And before that, I let you kiss the giraffe, and before that I sang “Row, Row Boat,” and before that it was “Twinkle, Twinkle Star,” and before that I gave you a hug and a kiss, and before that…I just want to finish my breakfast. It’s downstairs, waiting for me. I almost finished my egg. The egg I only had time to cook in the microwave. This time I got it right. Over-easy in the microwave. Not easy at all. I left it for the fifth time to come up these stairs and tell you to get back in bed and close your eyes. But that ship has sailed. Your eyes are wide open and they look into mine. They smile, say I’m silly and I’m loved. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I’m frustrated. I cry. You say “Uh, Oh,” and catch the tear gliding to my ear. Today a man was shot walking to his car, and I was angry because you wanted to be held, wanted to be sang to, wanted to be loved, wanted to feel warm, wanted to feel safe, wanted to feel us. I’m sorry. Together we are it all. You will not be ignored. My egg will wait. My eyes are open.

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