Your yogurt smoothie is questionably balancing on top of your semi-truck, and it’s a matter of seconds before the whole concoction falls apart; and you’ll either belly laugh or face plant on the dirty rug in total despair. My sock is on the mantle, chocolate is smeared all over your chair that I just washed; your pumpkin is strategically placed on your plate next to your snacks, and 9,000 colorful straws are currently decorating the floor. You just recovered from a meltdown because the dog ate the food you shoved at his nose.
I stare into space, totally and completely overwhelmed, on the verge of losing my marbles- a statement you took so literally the other day that you actually started searching for marbles.
You go scurrying through the house, a 2-year-old pantsless ball of energy, as I slowly rock your newborn baby brother. You begin telling me a story, something about snakes, rocket ships, and peanut butter, and my mind shifts from all the (kind of hilarious) mess. I start to think about how just weeks ago, you and I were just two best friends taking on the world together, inseparable.
Then I brought home your brother, a tiny and perfect little boy who I was immediately immensely in love with, just as I was you, when you were born. But, to you he’s probably a screaming alien that just popped in and zapped 75% of my attention, and you’re still trying to figure out why the heck you love him. And I let all the guilt creep in, watching you play alone for probably the first time ever, wondering if it’s possible to clone myself so that I can give you each 100% of me.
Eventually our day draws to an end, the sun goes down and the world is quiet and dark. I sit in silence feeding your brother, and just like I’ve always done, I replay our moments together in my mind.
I loved today.
Today I was “your best boy” and when I tried to explain that maybe I could be your “best girl” instead, you cried. So today, I was your best boy.
Today I was your “best friend” and for months now you haven’t let 15 minutes go by without making sure I know.
Today, you even told me that I’m your “best pizza”. And that’s everything.
Today you loved me in the middle of all the mess, regardless of the lack of attention that I gave you. You loved me when I gave you goldfish for breakfast, forgot to brush your teeth, made you wait 76 hours for your milk, and didn’t race around the hall with you like I said I would. Today, just like yesterday, you loved me through my failures.
And for the record…you’re my best pizza too. Forever.