Sometimes, being a mama is hard.
All you hope for is that nothing bad to ever happen to your child
and for happiness to be the only thing they ever know.
Like, 98.99999% of the time, if you're super-vigilant
the world is good and full of butterflies
(or maybe trucks, cookies, or Sesame Street. Whatever makes your kid super-squealy happyhappyhappy).
But even the most vigilant of mamas
lets one gets past her.
Even when everything turns out to be completely okay, a moment of pain for your child
equals a giant hole in the heart of a mama.
And in the heart of a drama queen like me?
That hole is the Grand Canyon.
And long, rambling, free-poetry-type blog posts are written.
(Well, it might be poetry if it wasn't so horrible)
My son is sleeping sweetly in his bed.
He laughed at his favorite show
while I spoke frantically to a doctor.
He only hurt for a second, and everything is fine.
At least I'm not the parents on the news right now who left their three kids alone in a house with no working toilets.
(Those poor babies...)
My son is fine, he's fine and wonderful.
It was a passing moment and my son is fine.
(just tell my mama heart)
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