Real

I know most of the time I paint a beautiful picture of perfect days that I have. To be honest, most days are pretty close to perfect with my little one, just for the simple fact that he's here with me. And then there are the other kind of days. The days where every nerve in your body is twitching, and a mother like me might quietly ask God for the strength to survive the behavior of a crazed two year old. The kind of behavior that a mother like me knows she exhibited as a child as is just being repaid the favor. The "no wanna this" and the "no wanna that" or the "don't look at me mama" or "don't talk to me mama" or the "I no want to eat a peanutbudder samich" or the "don't sing or dance mama, I only do dat" each of which gets a stern reaction to......because being the Enforcer is also a job that rides hand in hand with easy going mamma jobs. (And Enforcer is pronounced with a voice reminiscent of Darth Vader....) There are days where timeout is a permanent station. Where wobbly bottom lips don't phase me, or at least that's what I pretend. There are days when "I'm sorry mama" is said to me 100 times followed by a lengthy hug. There are days when crocodile tears can't distract and simply aren't allowed to make me feel bad. (though they always do)

And then, as I clean up the graham cracker that has been broken into what seems like 7 billion pieces and scattered about my house, I come around a corner and find a bucket wearing little boy staring peacefully out the window......and my day returns to perfect.