I did PiYo with you laying on my stomach.
I fed you peaches while I was attempting to shower.
I held your boogers in my hand because you “didn’t want them.”
I forgot to drink my coffee because your DVD kept skipping and ruining your life.
I scrubbed your strawberry, sprinkled Pop-Tart off the carpet.
I made you a second breakfast because you were “still hungrier.”
I wiped your pee dribbles off the seat…twice.
I filled and re-filled your Pez dispenser because the candies “taste better” in the dispenser than in your hand.
I rifled through your costume bin trying to find a small sword that you just “had to have” for all of three seconds.
I checked out and carried 19 “Countdown to Kindergarten” books (in my arms and across the lava-hot library parking lot) to help ease your anxious mind.
I picked through your Chipotle, retrieving the “spicy, green things.”
I allowed you to eat
1/3 1/2 of my Burrito Bowl.
I spent three hours making, icing, and decorating sugar cookies with and for you.
I cleaned 1/3 cup of flour off the kitchen floor that you dumped.
I cleaned 1/4 cup of confectioner sugar off the kitchen floor that you dumped.
I lifted you on and off the toilet more times than I care to count.
I buckled and unbuckled your car seat more times than I care to count.
I listened to your bickering and whining more times than I care to count.
I wiped peanut butter off your face with my fingers and spit.
I wrestled your soccer socks on and off.. and then on again… when you forgot your shin guards.
I sat on the wet, itchy ground in stifling humidity (for an hour), watching your soccer practice and giving you high-fives in the air.
I let your stinky body climb all over my sweaty body to keep you entertained during your brother’s soccer practice.
I fed you bites of cookies (like a bird) because you didn’t want to get your hands “so messy.”
I gave you my time…
and parts of my sanity…ALL DAY LONG.
And when you looked up at me with those big eyes of yours and said, “Mommy, please don’t ever stop being our Mommy,” I had this tiny, sneaking suspicion that God reached down (from His home on High) and uttered those words for you–the very words my exhausted ears needed to hear.
Thank you, God. And please, PLEASE…don’t EVER stop being my Daddy.