dear handsome dude head,
i didn’t mean to watch you sleep all night. it just happened.
and when i couldn’t quite see your chest moving up and down (possibly due to the insane swaddle-like device i have you enclosed in), i shimmied out of bed (in a super unsexy way), fell to the floor, crabwalked (oh, why the hell not?) to the other side of the rock n play, kneeled next to you, shined my phone like a laser directly at your chest… and then i poked you. just a little. enough to make you stir and/or cry. then i waited exactly five seconds, and poked you again. just in case the first time was a fluke or gas.
i am such a dick. but thorough.
and this was all completely unnecessary, since you are right next to my bed. seriously, i don’t even have to fully extend my arm to swat imaginary mosquitoes from maybe landing on you. which i do often. for no damn reason at all.
but as i have told you multiple times (in an attempt to bond and/or scar you for life), your mama is super duper creepy. and a bit obsessed with your chunky butt.
the truth is, i’m not really sure how to not be so freaking weird and creepy. the (somewhat smothering) love i have for you is absolutely terrifying. your very existence scares the poop out of me.
you’re my favorite kind of boogeyman.
so, yeh, sleep time sucks. awake time isn’t that much better. there are so many things that can hurt you: bees, bears, race cars, death eaters, plastic bags, small adorable items you insist on putting in your mouth, stinky people, roller derby brawls, an old sandwich, freddy krueger, blankets (why!?!?), and i am pretty sure ducks don’t think too highly of you. you may think i am exaggerating, but no, i am quite (maybe like 75%) sure that those aforementioned things, actually want to kill you. and as your kick ass mama, it is my duty to either kill them first or hire out.
JOKING. i don’t have that kind of money.
i know i am being ridiculous. i know i am a bit paranoid. i know i shouldn’t worry so much about roller derby brawls, but as much as i want you to be adventurous and explore and conquer this whole damn world, i am terrified that someone will be unkind to you. i am scared that you will leave one day and never return (which is silly, you’ll never remove the tracker i’ve implanted), and i pray every single day, that whatever guardian angel is assigned to you, has something mighty big to prove.
i’m aware the way i feel about you is unhealthy. i know this, you are starting to suspect it, and the old broad that attempted to rub your belly is definitely up to speed (she’ll ask first next time–you’re welcome).
i can only assume i will get creepier as you grow up. soon, you’ll start school, and i’ll be there, wandering the halls, threatening would-be bullies, staring at you through the little window on your classroom’s door (am i just making that up? is that only in the movies?), bribing your teachers to keep a close (non-teacher’s pet, don’t want you to be that guy) eye on you, and managing to become best buds with the principal, just in case i need a favor (always have one of those up your sleeve, sir).
it’s only because i care. and the whole mama paranoia thing.
oh, how i adore you. i am so sorry you have such a terrifying mama. i did not expect to be like this. it certainly wasn’t something i planned. i just never knew that i was capable of producing something so damn beautiful. so perfect. so… fragile. i just want to protect you. from tigers and stuff. is that too weird?
but i also want you to live. i want you to live a full, big, hell of a gorgeous life. and in order to do that, i will have to learn to be a little less creepy. a little more trusting. a silly amount braver.
i’m just not there yet. give me time, little dude. and stronger liquor.
i promise to work on this whole “less creepy, more trusting” mama thing. until then, just know that when you decide to take your first (glorious) step, i’ll be right there with: seventy pillows, a first aid kit (with its own ambulance), orange traffic cones, a marching band, twenty-five cameras, an extra pair of pants, a trained monkey, nine hospitals on speed dial, every grandparent i can find (not all of them yours), and a tall glass of whiskey.
obviously, the marching band and the monkey are for me. shenanigans.