Baby hands. Soft, gentle baby hands.
Putting E to sleep tonight was one of the more difficult nights we've had. The second she's out of the bath it's an all out war to get a diaper and pajamas on. No small feat with slow motion movement on this end. Add to the mix inconsolable sobbing, complete with crocodile tears and pauses to hack and sputter. Great for the stress level.
At one point, I could feel myself on that cry/scream/yell/bang your head against the wall point. I set the wriggling, screaming bundle of unhappiness down on her floor blanket and went into the bedroom and just screamed into my pillow. Got it all out.
When I came back to the living room, E was still sobbing, but now looking at me like "Why don't you love me, mama?"
Made me feel just wonderful. (sarcasm there, for those of you without that radar).
Finally I got her calmed down, fed and into bed. And she just laid there with her eyes wide open, staring at me. Like I was abandoning her or something.
Guilt is a powerful thing.
Out she came, and onto the bed we went. Snuggled up and face to face. As I was stroking her hair, mushing about how much I love her and how sorry I was I lost my temper, she reached her little hand up and stroked my cheek. And then reached out with her other hand and clasped my thumb.
So, there we were. Her hand on my face was the sweetest touch I've ever felt and, even just for a little while, made everything else disappear.
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3 comments:
Dangit Jayna, you made me cry!!!!!
I know exactly how you feel. Such a sweet and completely true story, lol.
I had tears in my eyes, also. What a sweet moment to treasure. They have a way of looking at us, after we were just silently cursing them, that can melt our hearts! What an amazing power.
I think every mother has those moments where we get so frustrated with our little ones we need to scream. Its why we feel a bit of solidarity with each other...and empathy. Big (((hugs))). Those moments when we can connect with them on the bed, just on the edge of sleep and so calm are just priceless.
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