Oh, the life of a mom. If I could have only one dollar for each time our three-year-old says, Momma…(insert any random question here….) I could easily quit my job (although I like it and it is part-time…and I am my own boss…and I do work in pajamas…here is where I digress). And I certainly know if our six-month old could talk she would rack up at least another $500 per day in Mommas. I can dream.
And then there is Moose. AKA Lugnut, The Big Lug or my personal favorite Dufus (also termed Dufey when I think he’s being kind of a cute Dufus). He has been medically diagnosed with separation anxiety. We actually spent some of our hard-earned money on ‘doggie prozac’ for him and let me tell you it was worth every penny! (I do wish I could pay for it with ‘Mommas,’ but back to reality I go.) When we recently rebudgeted we cut the prozac so now I am doing what I know best to keep his anxiety at bay and get at least two feet away from him without him following me. I yell at him. Not like yell at the top of my lungs or anything, but more like a whiney yell, ‘Moose…geeeeeeeeze, leave me alone!’
But, what would I do without my various leeches? Well, apart from sleeping in, eating chocolate without sharing and simply walking from room-to-room without a shadow, I really don’t know what I would do. Because honestly, it feels good to be loved.
I love that our toddler asks me every single question that pops into her mind including, ‘Momma…what is that face you’re making?…’ and ‘Momma…why did God call it a time-out when you have to sit in a chair and do nothing?’ I certainly love when our baby’s eyes light up when she sees me and I am the best at getting her to snuggle in for a nap and make her happy when she is a little cranky (she only gets a liiiiiiitle cranky). I also love (kind of – this one is a stretch here) that Moose whines at the window if I’m outside even if there is a house full of people and that he has almost broken my legs to get out of the door with me if I am leaving (an attempt to breaks legs can be love to a dog ya know). And I know my husband loves that he has never ironed a shirt in our ten years of marriage and that they magically appear in his closet each week. I do not (let me repeat DO NOT) love ironing, but I love that he doesn’t have to do it.
So, if your house is full of people and animals that are sticking to you ‘cuz you’re made out of glue. Just admit it. You enjoy it. Why? Because it feels good to be loved.