Mommy-Daughter Date

This date was with Cuddlebug, and it was just what the Lord ordered -- for us both.

It was the end to a strange day. We started out by finally making the dreaded trip to the pediatrician's office to have Cuddlebug's blood tested for mercury poisoning. It was understood that her bravery would earn the whole brood some ice cream at Costco later (though I was lobbying for Starbucks!).

So, we headed home for lunch and read-aloud, and then began the painfully tedious, exhausting, exasperating task of tidying the house so that when we returned it wouldn't be a mad dash before Daddy came home. Everywhere I turned there was a new mess that had no hope of being attended to: cutting scraps in every nook and corner, Dumpling's animal figurines propped purposefully on furniture from the kitchen to my bedroom, dress-up clothes that Fifi kept excusing as, "I'm going to wear those later," and of course the random round bead, marker, glue stick or pencil that had fallen to the hardwood floor and just waited to be the straw that would break someone's back...literally.

I didn't realize how much of my energy was being sapped by their need for me to think them through this clean up, but it became painfully obvious once we finally marched out to the van. Inside my not-so-clean-and-sweet-smelling bread box (Husband's words, not mine) it felt to be 175 degrees with 97% humidity -- and the a/c is not blowing well. But, we're trying to be tough, and so we proceed with little or no complaint.

And then it happened. For the hundredth time today, Cuddlebug was chasing Dumpling with her voice (she was yelling at her). I looked in my rear view mirror to see that Dumpling was quite content to ignore her, which only raised the stakes for our most determined little girl ever. Now, Dumpling knows that she can say, "no thank you," or "not now," or any number of polite brush-offs, but pretending to be deaf and dumb is not allowed 'round these parts. So...

I blew a gasket. Not as loud or as long as in times past, but to my shame, once again, I gave voice to my rage. I was crying out to the Lord in a loud voice, and I think I said, "This is not my life!" And I'm pretty sure I said it twice -- amongst other things I don't want to remember so vividly. Then, by the grace of God I shut my mouth and turned the van around. It was mid-afternoon and I told the three of them to go upstairs and lay on their bed -- no talking -- for the rest of the day. And then, in the midst of this newly-tidied house, I laid on the couch and did something I never do while they are awake. I turned on the t.v., caught up with CNN and took a hard nap. It was gloooooooorious!

Right before dinnertime, I went up and had a little "meeting" with them. They apologized, admitting that they could have done better. I apologized for yelling and tried to explain my finite nature and that this is how it was going to go from now on; cooperation or excommunication. Then I invited them downstairs. It was better after that, to say the least.

Now for the good part. After dinner, I invited Cuddlebug to go with me to the library where I needed to return some overdue books. It was our first real Mommy-Daughter date. We went to the library and even sat down to read a couple of selections before checking them out. That was sooooo nice. I never do that anymore because there is no good set-up for all three (or even two) girls to see the pictures while I read; we need a couch. While we were sitting there together, and in between books, she was trying to decide whether she would like to have a bubblegum ball or an ice cream scoop afterward. I wish I had a picture of her face when I told her that she could have a scoop of bubblegum ice cream at the Baskin Robbins store!

As we bounced around our neighborhood for an hour or so, there were a couple of sweet exchanges like, "Mommy, is God going to give you any more bebes?"

"I don't know, honey. Right now He has only said, 'Wait.'"

"Maybe after you marry Daddy again?"

"You think Daddy and I should get married again?"

"Oh yes! He's so handsome!" *big grin, hands clasped, chin up high*

Later as we were leaving the library, she bounded to the car and then abruptly stopped to pretend the curb was a balance beam. I asked, "Sweetie, do you miss your sisters?"

"No. Watch this, Mommy."

I don't blame her. Frankly, I didn't miss them either -- not for this one hour. I was relishing this moment in which a third born got to be an only child, and I was her fully devoted and completely attentive Mommy.