Saturday, May 9, 2009
A real Mother's Day
The girl doesn't call me Mami or Mama. She knows who I am, she just doesn't call me anything. Well, sometimes she calls me Daddy. Twice, she has bitten me so hard she has drawn blood. She has slapped me, stepped all over my vital organs and pokes my eyes at the first sign of my falling asleep. And even after all that mental and physical abuse, I adore her.
On the other hand, she beams every time she sees me. I'm the one who can really console her. She follows me around constantly and imitates my every move. She holds me like no one else in the world. She has shown me a love like no other. That is what makes me so happy on Mother's Day.
Granted, I'll spend that wonderful made up holiday wiping her nose and worrying about her bad cough. Making sure she doesn't have a fever and keeps drinking liquids. And probably putting her in her crib for a time out for slapping me but I wouldn't have it any other way. Well... a massage, a mimosa and sleeping in would be better. But like my friend Sandra says
"Querias ser madre, coge ser madre." "You wanted to be a Mom, take that!" And I gladly will. Ay Mama!