She Lives In My Lap

I caught crap. Literally. She went to the bathroom while I was giving her a bath. Though my reaction was instinctive, and natural, I had poop in my hand and it was gross. She jumped because her outburst scared her and I laughed so hard, I had tears in my eyes. Usually not my disposition when someone has just shared so much of herself, but she was so stinkin' cute. I couldn't help it. That is one of oh, let's say a trillion fond memories I have of raising The Boss Lady. Wherever she is twenty years from now, she will be in charge. She's easily the next Martha or Oprah. She has personality for days; she carries on a conversation like a grown up; and she's the best kid ever.

We had a very difficult time having a child. We could get pregnant with no problem. But we couldn't have the right kind of pregnancy because of earlier issues with endometriosis, cysts, and scar tissue.

Finally it happened. We were pregnant and she was where she needed to be for a healthy pregnancy. She came AFTER an ectopic which is a medical miracle alone.
She came via emergency C-section after like 300 hours of labor. The joker did not want to come out, and she still doesn't want to get out of my lap. She's quite territorial about it too.

Since then, she has been the sunshine of my life, and I am in love with her. She gives me at least a million kisses a day, and that's not enough. Next to my husband, she is the only person whose company I constantly desire. We get our nails done together; she puts on lipstick in the mirror right next to me; she walks around in my "heel highs", wears my jewelry and my shades (she's a total diva); and she tells me (usually after I cave in and let her eat candy after saying no at least 100 times) "you're the best mom ever!" This is good news because, lately, that's one of the only things I care about.

I know a LOT of songs. Really. I have lyrics and melodies to thousands of songs just floating around in my head. Everyone who knows me, knows this about me. Of all the songs I know and love, and as much as I love music; more than any symphony, her laugh is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.

I'm very aware of what I teach her with my behavior, my words, and my actions. I care about my legacy because of her. What she learns about God, money, relationships, education, and (God help us all)men, will initially come from me. (beads of sweat, beads of sweat, beads of sweat...). But I'm up for the challenge.

I understand why I see big old fifteen year olds still trying to sit in their mother's lap. It's because it's theirs. And no one else's.

Happy Birthday Big Mama!