A few week ago I had a really, really bad day. The straw that broke the camel's back was when I crashed the Pugmire's really nice car into their really nice garage wall. The wall crumbled and the car was dented and scratched. I wanted to throw up, run away, hurt myself, and rewind those last idiotic 30 seconds. After summoning BJ, and confessing to my father-in-law that I am insufficiently equipped to pull a car into the garage, I went into my room for the night and cried. I layed face-down on the bed and in all my dramatic glory, I let it out. I cried long and hard, feeling a lot like the wall that was damaged and smashed.
That night I didn't find a lot of consolation even though BJ was patient and tender and full of, "It's ok honey's" and "it's really not a big deal's." My father-in-law was equally kind, laughing and joking, attempting to lighten the mood when he saw my tear-stained face. But I was in the mood to cry.
That night, after watching youtube videos of beautiful dancers and trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep next to BJ, I got out of my bed, opened the door, and walked down the hall to my little girl's room. Comfort didn't come that night until I held my baby as she slept. I laid her down by my side and cried- tears dripping onto her porcelain skin. It hurts so good to love a child the way a mother does. I love that baby of mine in a fierce, fierce way. And even though all she did was sleep that night while I nuzzled into her, she made me feel like everything was going to be ok.
This year I celebrated my first Mother's Day. Thank you, Ellie Layne, for making me your mama.