Am I the only parent who spends time staring at their child and trying to figure out how this all happened? When they became a grown up?
I look at her sometimes and I feel like I must still be the teenager that I feel like so often, that I’m some babysitter who has no right to love this little girl this much. That would explain why I never remember to bring along a change of clothes and I always forget to have a snack in my purse at all times.
But she calls me Mama, and she loves me right back… and I’m responsible for feeding and clothing her. Someone how the scared 16-year-old inside me became the first person this little girl looks for when she needs help or she’s hurt.
And when I hear “MOOOOM!” I never hesitate to answer, even though the title still seems so foreign.