Another day in the toddler life is complete. She is tucked into her bed, wearing her “deep dream diving suit” aka extra cozy footy pajamas, and quickly dozes off with Eeyore and Tigger by her side. Her dad and I start to wind down and relax. But before these very quiet and sweet moments, an entirely different universe existed – one that swirled and swirled into a million different colors and directions.
…
In the early morning hours, you weren’t sure what outfit you wanted to wear, but I tried to hurry you along. I know you were getting frustrated with me. I know you wanted to take five – ten – fifteen extra minutes. But, the unfortunate ticking on a weekday clock does not cease. So, hurry to the car we must. And once inside, I did not want to listen to Disney. But that was all you wanted to hear. “Just one more time, mama, please.” Again, I know you were frustrated with me. You were using the manners I asked you to use and dialed down the sass for Disney. But, you have no idea what that tune does to me. I can’t do one more time. I failed.
Of course, your request quickly subsided, and we arrived at school. You’re greeted by your teachers and best friends. As I drove away, you blew a kiss and waved to me. My heart sunk. I could do better. I need to give more.
The day continued on, and we were in two worlds. While I worked on spreadsheets and sitemaps, you were coloring pages and singing songs. As I logged on to a conference call, you walked out to the playground. At the end of the day, I’m tired. But the only thing I wanted to do is rush to you. I jumped into my car and rushed to scoop you up and put on that Disney song … one more time. When I arrived, you were ready to go. “Mama!” you say. And we were off. Disney song cued up. A win to bring back the balance.
But then we got home. And I started dinner. And I couldn’t be everything you wanted me to be right at that moment. The world ended when you didn’t have a new outfit to put on at that moment. I know that you needed [something]. You shouted. But I dismissed it. Am I failing again? As we sat down and you looked at the plate of food that you once loved, you said you weren’t hungry. You don’t like it. You don’t know I’m frustrated. But it’s okay. Your dad ushered you off, and the two of you started to get ready for the night. I tidied up and met you. And you were crying. Well, it was more of that screaming crying. I know it. It’s second nature for me to pick out the type of scream/cry. You were exhausted. You were frustrated. You were done.
Eventually, we relaxed, read stories, and I brushed your hair. You brushed your teeth. We smushed our cheeks together and let out a small giggle. We hugged each other tight. So tight. It’s that tight that just takes your breath away and for a moment, I just wanted you to stay with me. But your bed awaits.
…
As I put her down and said goodnight, wishing her the sweetest of dreams, she asked…
“How was your day, mama?”
I answered, “It was good. How was your day, Madeline?”
“It was a good day, mama.”
That was all I needed. Another perfect day. Couldn’t ask for anything more. xo
