bedtime

It's not that we fought all day, because we don't.
It's not babies in the house because we make it about her.
It's not the return to preschool, she's been there before.
It's not anger, displacement, jealousy.
It's three.
he's a love but she's three.
Which means she loves me most of the time but loves getting her own way more.
And the days are tough. And long. And I swaear I'm going to try harder tomorrow and within minutes orf her waking I snap at her. About whining. About clothes. To hurry hurry hurry for breakfast.


Tonight I put her to bed. Seven weeks postpartum, no sleep, two dr visits, gymnastics, preschool and laundry today and he's at a red sox game thank you very much. i'm too tired to read books and i know I have 5 minutes max because it's nigh on 8pm and the urchins are stirring.

We are laying together looking into each others faces.
"How was  school today?" I asked.
"It was  ok" she said. "I played with Bea"
"How about Sophia" I probed.
"No" she said almostin tears "Sophia was playing with other kids, I don't think she wants to play with me."
"That happens honey" I said. All the while thinking her preschool is too small, the surroundings too itimate, it's time to miove her, is she being left out by the bigger kids ergo the clique from Winchester... Wondering "am I that mother that hovers followed by did I make a mistake?'
"How was gymnastics?"
"Good." she said "But next time you need to help me. You need to stay and help me because I can't do what the other girls do." she pauses "Julia...and the other one" 
"Hailey" I supplied.
"Julia and Hailey."
" I can't go in" I told her. "But I watched through the window.
"No you didn't." She pouted
"But I did. I saw you. You had your hands on the pencil beam and you jumped from side to side."
She looked thoughtful.
"Mommy. What was that teacher's name. The man..."
"Michael" I said.
"No. His name is Caoch. He's not a teachere's Coach Michael but we can call him Mike. He has the same name as Michael."
me: 'Yes, Mike and Michael are the same name."
Her: "No, Mommy, you need to listen, not talk. I'm talking now. I mean Michael. Down the street. His name is Michael like Kari's Michael"
Aha! "That's right" I said. "His name is like Kari's son." I start to gear up for a "teachable moment" about names and nicnames.
"But he doesn't go by Mike." she stated.
I interrupt "Exactly. Like you have 2 names, Ellie and Eleanor"
"Mommy." She's truly exasperated. "You need to NOT talk. You are talking about different things then me. I want to talk about Ellie things."
Me: "Oh, ok. I'm sorry. Go ahead."
And she rolled over.
"I like doggies.
And lollypops.
And books." long pause"
"And playdates. And ring-around the rosy with friends, and I like playing with my Arthur. "
and I thought she was done.
"And I like all the mommies in the world. But I like you best. Did you know any other Ellie's Mommy?"
'i did honey but you're my favorite Ellie.."
She snuggled back into me.
"Of all the Ellies in the world, how did you pick me?"
And I thought about all the times I prayed, in all my life, for God to somehow see me, and that I had this love to give. And how I prayed for his will, that somehow I would be someone's mother, somebodies wife. All this flashed through my mind and i said outloud. "I asked the baby fairy."
"What did you ask her" she questioned.
"I asked her to find me the very best little girl in the whole world. And she did. And then she brought me you."
"oh. Oh. Ok momma."

And them she fell asleep
and I snuchk out of the room.

And there are a million more things to do.
And miles to go before I sleep.
But maybe, just maybe, I don't totally suck today.