Saturday, February 8, 2014


{A letter to Elle}

Your dad works 48 hour shifts and by the end of them, I am ready for a break being a mom. My arms are tired from lifting you both in and out of the car. My ears are tired from listening to whiny demands. My body is touched out from being on the receiving end of many hugs, tugs and pulls. My mind is tired from answering endless questions. My back is tired from picking up toys. As the that last day of the 48 drags through dinner and I can almost feel the freedom that lies beyond your bedtimes, I get cranky. It happens every time. I just want peace.

Tonight, after finally arriving home after being stuck in traffic and not having enough snacks and a smooshed finger injury, that need for peace was taking over and I got snippy and snappy and rushed. I quickly brushed your teeth and read one book and kissed you both, I shut the last door and felt my shoulders relax. Then not 3 minutes later, you poked your head out of your bedroom door and said you needed to pee and I slammed around like a teenager and told you "hurry then". And you did, and while you were sitting there perched on the toilet with your tiny legs, you said, "you are a beauty, mama" and you smiled. You had already forgiven me. Within seconds. I admire that so much in you. And of course I let the anger sail out of me like ship, hopefully going to a place where it will stay for at least a few days, so we can all get respite from me, the tired (but oh so lucky) mother.

(pictures from the last month)