Until Bedtime

Until Bedtime

“Someday you’re going to have a daughter just like you!” Words viciously spat by a fed up parent .Why is it parents never say that to their child when they’re being good?

  Am I looking into a mirror when I look into your little face?

The eyebrows, the mouth, even the voice; you are my mirror image.

When you stomp your foot and scream, “BUT MAMA,” little hands on hips, sometimes, I want to laugh. Other times, I want to cry.

You are your mother’s child in that you are soft and caring and so easily pierced by an unkind look or word. Yet, you are fierce and determined…maybe even stubborn.

I find myself stopping after a particularly difficult battle with you, thinking, “Please give me strength to make it through until bedtime.” Whether God sends down a dusting of patience or my mother’s soul reaches out to me, we make it.

Every night, my little me, I cover you up while you sleep and I wonder how that holy terror who brings me to the brink of insanity each and every day can look so angelic in sleep.  The long lashes, the pudgy hands, the soft rhythmic rising and falling of your chest- you are a cherub, sent to bring me peace.

So, every night as I go to bed I take the best of you with me. I lay with the thought of you and it brings me a sense of serenity and of strength.  Tomorrow when you put your little hands on your hips (and you will) and when you scream, “BUT MAMA,” I’ll smile a quick, fleeting smile and ask someone, anyone, to please help me make it until bedtime.