We’ll be walking out the door in a few minutes. As I wait for my man to finish applying the emergency measures necessary to save his fish I write. Then we will go pick up our friends for a fun evening celebrating love.
I decided to not cut my child’s hair all off. (Thus the word uncut in the title honoring this afternoon’s choice through gritted teeth.) My eldest daughter asked me this afternoon, “Mama, why are babies so cute?” With the most serious look on my face I told, “I think God made babies cute so that we don’t kill them.” The shock on her face compelled me to explain further. “With as much crap [pardon my French if that word offends you… I use it] as we have to put up with when caring for babies it helps that they are cute to look at so the job’s not as tough.” The look of shock remained.
So now, struck with that truth about myself, I have a pre-schooler to take care of who doesn’t look all that cute, in my opinion.
(My five minutes are up, but I feel like I need to finish my thoughts)
I cringe when I look at her. I know, I earn the bad-mother badge of the century. Helping her, serving her, caring for her just got harder for me. It disgusts me that this would effect med so. That feeling of disgust as I try to force myself to ‘grow’ beyond that, be more mature, whatever, makes it even so much harder.
So we are going to walk out the door. I am grateful for the break. I will come back refreshed. I will come back a little more prepared to care for my child.I’m not kicking her to the curb. I’ll let the hair grow back. I will love her.
That’s what my unedited love looks like today. [Hitting publish without scrolling back up…]