Baby for not-much-longer...
Why does that little nose keep running? Aren't we done with this sickness yet?
And why do runny noses come with so much whining. Why?
I want to know.
My momma ears are falling off from the high-pitched discontent strains,
and the cacophony of coughing is wearing on them too.
Do you want to put a pillow over your head as well?
What a rude gesture to brush though your hair, when you're clearly not
feeling your best, but after a week's-worth of one nappy, unchanged 'do,
it's clear that the time has come to apply a comb.
At least get it tidied up until we brush it again next week.
I'm glad you're eating well Baby-mine.
But why can't you wait just one minute?
I'm hurrying as fast as my morning hands can go - to peel this orange,
to cut up that egg, to wipe your nose once again.
How can the sick discontents be so insatiable?
There is virtually nothing that will pacify. Except hugs eh?
Except Hugs. The kind that mean "pick me up"
"sit you down, mom" and "stay here for a while more."
So we do. While it brings everything else to a dead halt, we sit and hug.
All things considered, it's a prescription I can follow in good conscience.
What is so important I can't stop really?
What's the matter with crying - let's just cry together.
This illness won't last. The sad sounds will cease. Your nose will stop running.
In one day or ten we'll look backward to this sick day from the land of the well.
And in almost as few days you'll be my "big" girl, no longer the tiniest of the troop.
So let's sit and hug, Baby.
You're still my baby today, and it's a good day for hugging.
4 years ago