I can't figure out why my baby is upset, then I remind myself we speak different languages, and we'll get it eventually. (7 weeks isn't enough apparently, however, if I moved to Mexico for 7 weeks I'm sure I'd be fluent in Spanish... baby must be the hardest language to learn. Go ask a professor.)
She is crying and daddy can't figure out what is wrong, then I realize he doesn't mind the fussy Mcfuss, as he affectionately calls her. (And really... 5 minutes here and there, babe we are lucky!)
She eats for only 5 minutes- then I realize how HUGE she is and tell myself to shut up. (She gained 1 pound 8 ounces in 9 days- hello chubbaroo!)
I lay her down and she dozes on and off for an hour, because that is a whole hour I could have snuggled my bug, then I remind myself she needs her sleep and wouldn't get it if we played, and I'd be miserable later in the day with a grump a lump.
I forget my vitamins, there is always tomorrow.
We have to get crummy insurance because I want to stay at home, then I remember that Jon and I chose this for our punk, and good insurance or bad, what is important is her daily care from a momma who adores her and will protect her with her life.
She cries in the car seat, but then she loves to be on the move.
My daughter's butt gets red, but then I think of the the chlorine I'm prtoecting her from and the money we are saving, and I am so glad. Plus, a little bootie paste and it's gone.
She gets gas, is it something I ate?
But that is just it, I'm not perfect and I never will be. But I still stand by the fact that I am the perfect mother for Brooklyn. I believe God designed me to be her mother. He didn't look in a nursery in heaven and say- "You, long lean one, go forth to Jon and Alli, I pick you for them." It was all in a plan since the beginning of time, that Jon and I would parent this precious princess. We have been molded to be just right for her. God held B's soul in his hands and said, "I have the perfect parents for you, I have been preparing them for you, I MADE them for you and I MADE you for them."
So even though I have a red butted, in-sling sleeping, wriggling little punk, I know I am the perfectly flawed mommy just right for her.