Somedays, I can’t bear another cry from you.
I’ll let you wait in your room, for another half an hour or two when I wish you’d sleep for longer.
Somedays, I smile when I really want to yell.
Often, I don’t really care if you’ve had enough to eat, I tell myself if you won’t eat what is on the plate, you simply aren’t hungry enough.
I’ll pretend I have patience and follow through with silence instead.
Somedays you suck it out of me.
And I feel so awful for feeling like this.
I’m not that type of mum.
And then there are better somedays.
When I love how you go in reverse gear and waddle into my lap for a story book.
I love when you do a little rotating dance to Beyoncé’s “Formation”.
I love it when you walk around the play centre for an hour, chipping at that apple, crunch by crunch.
I love it when you touch my cheeks.
I love it when you’re lost in your little world, babbling and being so important.
I’m trying to love you a little more, I really am.
I wish I could feel like the better somedays more often.
But. I just don’t know how.