A Mother's Love

Yesterday, I sent L into the kitchen to get the Dust Buster from the pantry so I could clean up yet another popcorn mess made by Z. Every time I give that boy popcorn I tell him "Do not dump this out on the floor. Yes, ma'am?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Dump.

Of course what does that say about me for continuing to give him popcorn? Forget it, I don't want to know.

So, anyway, I'm on the living room floor picking up the kernels one by one (Z is beside me "helping" by eating the popcorn off the floor like a puppy), waiting on L to return with the vacuum. Two minutes later she comes strolling back into the den with a cup of water and sits down on the couch.

I look at her.

She looks at me.

I give her the classic, raised eyebrows, palms outstretched, what-the-hell look.

She goes, "What?"

Exasperated, I cry, "Where's the freakin' Dust Buster?"

"Mom! You're not supposed to say freakin'!"

"Sorry." Deep, calming breath. "Where is the Dust Buster, my darling?"

"Oh. I forgot."

"You forgot? I sent you into the kitchen to get the Dust Buster and you come back in here with a cup of water? What's that about?"

"I was thirsty."

"So, sometime within the four seconds it took you to walk from the den into the kitchen, my request for the Dust Buster flew out of your head and was replaced by this sudden and primal need for liquid refreshment? Is that what you're telling me?!"

But, somewhere in the middle of that tirade she turned to the TV and began to watch Ellen and I lost her.

Despite that minor set-back, I am amazed at how much L has learned over the past year. And she takes such great pride in her accomplishments. I believe I have mentioned before that she is way more of an over-achiever than I am. It will be interesting to see how long I can keep up with her. I know as soon as she gets to long division, I'll have to bail.

Anyway, she said something that I thought was really brilliant and it made me stop and just look at her in awe. It was truly one of those Hallmark, mushy, Mom Moments where a hazy beam of sunlight shines down around your child and your heart swells with so much joy and love at this wonderful gift you have been given.

I said, "You know, L, have I told you lately how so very proud I am of you? You have learned your address, how to spell your last name, how to tie your shoes and you can count all the way to 100!"

I had barely finished praising my beautiful, beaming girl when Z came tearing into the kitchen to proudly show us how he had stuffed an entire slice of white bread inside his mouth. I took one look at those chipmunk cheeks and those shining eyes and said, "Yes, Z, I am proud of you, too!"

Thirty seconds later I was practically Heimliching the kid to keep him from chocking and digging the soggy wad of dough out of his throat while L was hopping around squealing, "Ewwww...gross! It has his spit all over it!"

The sunbeam was gone and I was back to seeing them under the unflattering glare of the florescent, kitchen light.

But, God help me, I still love 'em.