little feet, big sky

Some days are better than others.

Some days, I can’t stand to be alive. I wake up to Spice pulling my hair, or kicking my chest and I want to just smother her with a pillow. I struggle to be cheery when she’s kept me up half the night and I’m anything but. I get annoyed with her easily and in turn, she spends most of the day randomly half-crying, as if to protest my sour mood. I’m tired and frustrated and spend the evening rushing through her bath, our dinner, and then to bed, just to start the whole damn cycle over again. I fall asleep thinking I can’t bear it, I can’t do this for even another day…

Some days, I can’t believe how lucky I am to have her and especially her. I’m in awe of how sweet she is, how enduring, how brilliant, how charming. I look at her and marvel that I have this amazing gem of a daughter, surely more wonderful than any daughter has ever been before. I cuddle her and play with her and think of strange things like how I wish I could just eat her cheeks, she’s so cute. I tuck her in close to me as I nurse her to sleep, wishing for just a moment we could freeze time and keep her small and safe like this forever.

So it goes. Some days are better than others.