Mother, by any Other Name

"Ma! Mama!"
"Mum! Ma-ma! Mam-a!"

She might be playing with inflection, but the message is the same: "I don't want to sleep."

As I pad down the hall, feeling more exhausted than I ever thought I would at 9:30 in the morning, I hear the pacifier hit the floor. *sigh* I know what comes next.

Screams. Horrible if-I-wasn't-your-mom-I-would-probably-stop-liking-you screams.

As soon as I round her doorway the screaming stops and turns into roaring. Not angry roaring, lion roaring. At this phase, every animal roars. Dogs, frogs, ducks, no exceptions. There she is, jumping up and down in her crib and excitedly roaring at me.

My heart is a mix of absolute delight in this vivacious little creature and sheer frustration. On the good days its a 50-50 mix. On the not-so-good days... let's just say there is an obvious winner.

I wish I could tell you that this scenario doesn't happen often. I mean, I could tell you that, but it would make me a liar.

I love my girl so much. I love who she is: energetic, persistent, adventurous, engaging, independent, assertive, caring, and observant.  Who she is also has the potential to drive me stark raving mad.

I don't know why I feel the need to tell this little tale. I'm sure it's nothing notable, but it drives me to the edge (of what, I don't know exactly).

I just needed to say it.