Dear Baby,

I don’t know how you manage it. You can scream in my face, slap me around, make me wake up in the middle of the night just because you want something. I clean up your poop and your vomit.

You are demanding and you offer few rewards.

You’re very existence has messed up my body and my psyche.

But I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.

Sometimes all I want is to have someone else take you and deal with you, but there is nothing better than being with you and holding you in my arms or watching you learn and advance.

Sometimes you fight the bottle even though we both know all you need to do is drink until you fall asleep.

I don’t know what magic it is that you weave, but you have me totally entranced.

One comment on “Dear Baby,

  1. Capital Mom

    That about describes it.

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