Thursday, June 05, 2008

My Apology

Dear Jude,

I wish I was writing this letter to celebrate another month of your life, but sadly, I am not.

The past few days have been terribly hard for you and me. You’re either teething or not feeling well or you’re bored or you can’t communicate exactly what it is you want, and I… well, I’ve been getting frustrated and angry and annoyed. I haven’t been as patient as I need to be. I haven’t been the best mom that I can be; I feel like I’ve been down right rotten. Ever since I let the internet people in on my dirty little secret of my abysmal parenting skills, things have just gotten worse. And what’s more humiliating is that I can’t stop writing about my subsequent shortcomings (what kind of mother lets her child get a CAT’S NAIL stuck in his/her mouth?). I have verbal diarrhea of the writing kind.

All of the things that used to entertain you don’t cut it anymore. I thought that giving you the run of the upstairs would be exciting for you (and I hoped that it would make things a little easier for me). That worked for about a day, but now you’re just done with that too.

You’ve started getting very daring with the cats, and while they put up you right now, I can see their patience waning. You have scratches on your hands from trying to hug Cirrus when he didn’t want to be hugged. I know you love them and their furry little bodies, but baby, they need their space! I’ll be happy to be the one you hug. I know I’m not furry, but give me a few weeks! I’ll quit shaving!

None of this is your fault. You’re a year old. You can’t control your emotions or understand that you’re not supposed to pull the cats’ tails. You can’t be expected to recognize when you’re overtired or hell, even when you’re just plain old regular tired. That’s my job. It’s my job to anticipate and meet your needs. It’s my job to recognize when you’re tired or hungry or bored and do my best to remedy the situation. It’s my job to do all of this in a caring and respectful fashion. You don’t deserve my anger or frustration, and I’m sorry you’ve had to be on the receiving end of it.

So, tonight I am a new woman. I am a new mother. When you wake up in the morning, Jude, you’re going to be blown away by the difference you sense in me. I can’t promise you that I won’t screw up and revert to my old ways, but I can promise you that I’m going to try my best to be better for you, because you deserve to have the best mama in the world.


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