Wednesday, February 8, 2017
Now you've delivered your new bundle of joy.
The screaming's over. The joy of the Epidural is long gone, along with your Romeo, your mighty man, your partner in crime, your King; who'd vowed to love you forever, who'd never actually belonged on the thrown in your castle anyway, but you're okay with your mistake because you still had, just what you'd always wanted.
Your baby girl.
Years roll by. They come and go, and you withstand the storm, the waves no matter how high because you're a woman, a single queen without your king, of course, but you're still okay because you've got just what you'd always wanted.
Your baby girl.
Well, being a single mom's been rough. But you're strong, and you seem to have this mother, daughter thing down pretty darn good. You say no to most of the ridiculous, teen endeavors your now thirteen-year-old daughter who suddenly thinks that you hate her for, no differently than you'd said no to them a thousand times in the past, but it's all okay because you were given, just what you always wanted. Your baby girl.
Now you're precious daughter's sixteen, and those simple little meaningless conflicts are now full combat, bomb droppers, and all you want is to retreat back to the way it was: the fun, the good-old days, those 'remember when days. But it hasn't and she won't because she's you at sixteen, saying all the things you'd wanted to say to your mother but would never because you'd had just too much respect for your parent. Now your confused trying to find your roll in your child's life as to who's the mom and who's the child here.
You breathe in and you count to ten as you were taught during those secret visits to your life coach that those hand-picked full of friend's of yours may consider nothing more than a practical joker... but you'd needed this, so who cares about what they think. Besides, what you'd taken away from this life training has been working this far, so too each his own.
Only, now, everything you'd been coursed into believing is regrettably falling apart right in front of you and you're starting to wonder...who's child from hell does this kid belong too?
However, you are a woman so you push on, you continue your unconditional love for your ungrateful, disrespectful although beautiful child, and in the end. Your little girl grows up...and
you do a bit of growing up too. So you breath again. Yah... that life coach wasn't for not after all, and you smile because you'd gotten just what you'd always wanted.
Your Baby Girl
Happy you, happy life, happy everyone else