Somebody's Everything

Mike’s been out of town for the last four days so I’ve been parenting Zephyr alone, and it’s actually been a lovely and magical time for most of it, but this evening was awful. After three and a half days of being sweet, enthusiastic, helpful, and cooperative, my angelic and precocious chatterbox became whiny and obnoxious. I have been low on sleep, and my patience wore out, and his response to my attempt to set some boundaries was desperate and clingy and I gave in when I shouldn’t have and ended up resenting him after bedtime took an extra hour (which hasn’t happened since August; lately bedtime has been like clockwork, smooth and fast, so this took me by surprise.) Tonight I finally went in to his room at the end of many tears, wiped his nose, snuggled him for a few minutes. I asked him, when I left this time, to please let me go and not call me back. He wrapped his arms around my arm and said quietly, tearfully, “but I really love you.” I said, “I really love you too, more than anything!” And he said, “Mama, I’m a jewel for you. Am I your jewel?” I didn’t even know he knew that word.

It’s hard to be

somebody’s everything.

Especially somebody who I am biologically programmed to believe is the most wonderful person, whose needs seem simple and few and I am a total heel to disregard them or prioritize my own.

I know not every day can be perfect

I’m still mad this one wasn’t

Grumpy, resentful, guilty, embarrassed (in a group house there are always witnesses to one’s parenting errors.)

Mike gets home in a few minutes. My poem time is shot. Y’all, this is what I got for you tonight. Wish I had something joyful instead.