This really sucks, Baby

Last night as I put my daughter to bed she said, ‘You cuddle with me, Mama?’

I said, ‘Not tonight, I have some work to do.’

About half an hour later she came out of her room and stood at the doorway and yelled, ‘Can you cuddle with me now, Mama?’

I said, ‘Go back to bed, Mama can’t cuddle tonight.’

In my own defense, I felt that I had nothing left to give and for my own sanity needed to do some worksheets on how to keep breathing in the face of trauma.


The next morning I heard my daughter talking in her bedroom and I went in and said, ‘Good morning, Baby!’

She popped her head up and looked at me with her big bright eyes and said, ‘Can you cuddle with me now, Mama?’

This is not her fault and from this point forward I will try to find every bit of energy to give her the attention she deserves.


This evening she sat on the other side of the island watching me make supper. I was busy cutting up carrots and reached over to give her a piece. She was looking towards the doorway and her bottom lip was in a pout. ‘What’s wrong, Baby?’ I asked.

‘I miss Dada,’ she said. Her dad is her knight in shining armor, the guy who keeps the monsters from getting in the house and the one who plays kickball. He is the one who sits next to her as they eat popcorn out of the same bowl while they watch Angry Birds. He’s the reason she gets to be really tall when he hoists her on his shoulders as they walk.

This really sucks, Baby.



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