me me me
2015-09-03 10:24 a.m.
I imagine all parents feel like impostors sometimes. I'm only six, myself. I'm just twelve and I'm worried about my bangs. I'm fifteen and no boys like me. How can I be a mama to two people?
Last night my son had what looked like a sunburn on his back and a bit of a rash on his chest. The poor thing couldn't get comfortable. I put some hippie calendula oil blend and of course that didn't do anything, sad to say my nice natural remedies never do anything if you've actually got something wrong with you. They're there to make you feel like it's going to be ok. So I got the anti-itch stuff and obviously someone else had used it on him that morning because he told me to get the medicine with the blue cap and it's in the medicine cabinet (I know where it is, son) and you have to shake it! You have to SHAKE IT (yes I heard you, yes I know). I lotioned up his little shoulders and rubbed it on his back and it still "scratched" him and I felt, alas, and to my joy, like a mom.
At 4 am the baby woke up and ugh, woke up the 3 year old too, he's so hard to get back down. He was proud that he told her it was ok. "Three times!" He narrated my comings and goings for her. It's like having your own personal herald. "Mama's coming back! See? Here she is!"
My little girl is absolutely hilarious lately. She's fifteen months and we just got the Amazon Echo so we're all barking orders to Alexa. She chimes in "'Lexa! 'Lexa!!" and grins her crinkle-nose grin. When we laugh at something she laughs heartily with a deep-voiced chortle just to be included. The cutest thing she does, besides going mmmmmmmwah when she's asked to say goodnight, is when I ask "Who's ready for (activity)?" "ME!" and she points to her little chest.