Addicted to Parenthood

Or at least that's what one author believes. (check out the article on Slate.com at http://www.slate.com/id/2274721/) That as much as people complain about parenthood, the exhaustion, the spit up, the crying, the frustration, that as soon as the child gives a smile, a hug, a kiss, a coo, etc, all bad is forgotten and only the good remains. Mark sent this article to me about a week ago. I read it, in between nap times, I might add, and it totally rings true. I can be so frustrated with her, for the smallest things, like why are you crying? I just fed you 6 ounces. Why are you not liking your car seat? It's an easy way to get around. And once she gives me a smile. All is forgotten and all is love. Take yesterday for example. I was feeding her a bottle of expressed breast milk. Because of the water restriction(power outage at the Sewage and Water Board Friday night, have to boil water to drink, eat, etc) we aren't able to wash the dishes, or we could but I am fearful of the minute risk that is entailed with the restriction so we aren't doing it until its lifted. Anyway, I digress. So I am done with one bottle (leftover 2 ounces) and about to move onto the other one (fresh 4 ounces) but I have to pour the 4 ounces into the leftover bottle. Well, she's hungry and all she wants is her food. So once its taken away from her, she goes crazy. She starts to cry. And then scream. And then cry louder. I know its because she's hungry. But its still not happy to hear. So once I transfer the liquid, the bottle goes back into her mouth and she's a happy camper.

I don't know why it made me so upset, but here I am, feeding her the 1:30PM bottle, and tears are in my eyes, I feel like I failed, and I am apologizing to her. And then later that day, as I am changing her into the PJ's (couldn't give her a bath, water restriction, they said not to shower if you have open cuts or wounds, just not going to chance it!), I have her on the changing pad. And she's happy but tired. And I am taking her clothes off, first the multicolored fleece hooded vest, then the magenta fleece pants, and as I at the brown longsleeved onesie, she gives me a big smile. All the while I am singing a silly song to her (I've taken Madonna's 'Who's that girl?" to the tune of "Who's that baby?" all along while butchering the lyrics too.) And then she laughs! And it's been a while since I've heard it. And it's the most glorious sound you've ever heard. And then she does it again! I yell down to Mark, and then she does it again. And again. Four times in a row. So awesome.

I want to hear it again, so I keep singing. But she's done for the night. If I'm an addict, all tears mostly forgotten, smiles remembered, then I'll keep on singing. Just don't tell me I'm tone deaf. I know. But she doesn't.