Dear daughter,
Today you were pretty mean to me. I know that you are too little to know that your "no's" hurt my feelings. I know you are learning to control your anger. I know that when you hit me and then immediately kiss the red spot better it is equal parts you being sorry and not wanting to be put in time out.
These things I know.
Still.
You were kind of mean.
But I'm sure you could write the same letter to me if you could. You would tell me that I was kind of mean. That you know I am tired and that my "no's" are for your own good. You would say you know I love you no matter what. You would say that putting you in your crib and trying to get you take deep breaths was practical advice, but never going to work. That leaving you alone to calm down hurt your feelings.
Is this how we are as mother and daughter? A never ending relationship of love and devotion so intense that we can tear one another apart in a single battle-of-the-shoes? A battle that is quickly overcome with high fives and a walk to the park as though we didn't just have our hearts rips out for a second?
If it's always like this, it's still overwhelmingly worth it, so the questions aren't even worth asking.
But just so you know, I sneak in on you when you are sleeping. I hold you in my little white rocking chair and I stroke your back. I take in your smell and I forget all about our little fights. I try to fill you up with all of my love while you are sleeping.
Perhaps I think that this way, when you wake up, you will be patient with me.
Perhaps my rocking you at night is my most sincere prayer.
Beautiful.
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