Should I die, this blog will serve as my son's source of virtual mama.

If I live, I won't have to repeat myself.

sigers writes fiction and nags her son in austin, texas. 

#Iwantyouto know when not to take it personal.

If you aren’t feeling well, your dad and I allow you in our queen-size paradise. You’re happy for a while, but after an hour or two, you usually want me out. You kick me. Repeatedly. You put your butt on my ear. Scratch my face with your toe nails. 

I used to not take this well. I would get annoyed with your father for even BRINGING you in the bed, even if I’d said it was okay. I would think about how I would get up and sit in the glider IN YOUR ROOM and get you back to sleep so HE wouldn’t be bothered. And I would just suffer the discomfort because I AM MOTHER FUCKING THERESA. So then I would sulk my way to the living room and grab a too-small throw and shiver on the couch.

The answer to your next question is yes. 

Yes, we do have a guest room. Your memory of your childhood home is correct. But martyrdom is only complete when you shiver on the couch instead of on the comfy, warm BED in the guest room.

Sometimes you can logic your way out of emotional stupidity. My journey went something like this:

1) Why are you shivering on the couch like an idiot when you have a guest room?

2) D always volunteers to leave the bed and you NEVER take him up on it. Partially because you are afraid the baby will want to go with him and you will feel worse. But it is stupid not to try. You kinda like this drama. You are an idiot.

3) You can always grab the Snuggie and hit the glider with the baby. It’ll be way faster. You are an idiot.

Now granted, another important milestone has happened in our relationship. You no longer look at me like I’m a hobo breaking into your room if I come in to comfort you instead of your dad. You say, “Mommy.” You pat me around my waist like I’m your girlfriend. My love tank is frequently full. That makes it easier not to take your nocturnal rejections so hard.

Now one day, Ami D, you will have a relationship and perhaps some boys and girls of your own. You will have to adjust to people that you love doing things that hit you at your core. WHY would you bring him in here when YOU KNOW HE’S GOING TO MAKE ME FEEL BAD? And WHY would you KICK YOUR POOR, POOR, HARDWORKING MOTHER OUT OF HER BED? Both of these things hurt my feelings. And I wanted to wallow in it, so I’d make myself even more uncomfortable.

Then I realized that daddy just does the thing that gets him back to sleep the fastest. He isn’t very good at gliding you into sleep. He’s tired. He doesn’t mind you wrapping yourself around his head like a turban. He isn’t trying to make me feel bad. In fact, he took the night shift for the first year of your life, so I could sleep.

And you, you are two years old. You aren’t attuned to my higher level emotions. Nay. You’re a selfish little gremlin, which is what you’re supposed to be right now. You’re two years old.

But I don’t have to be. 

So I guess the lesson is to love someone, especially a small child, you must be so secure in their love for you, that you don’t take a fart to your face and a dismissal from your bed personally.