Sentimental Sunday

BD is out of town this weekend and I am learning to appreciate, more and more, the role he plays in this household. Now that Playette is up on her hands and knees, she's faster than ever. Add in some good ole fashioned curiosity and you've gone one tired mama. Don't forget the teething. Oh, the teething! It's gotta be teething right? That has to be what kept her up until she finally passed out at 10:30 last night, right? And why she keeps her fingers pushed to the sides of her mouth at all times, right? She's whiny and she's defiant and she's opinionated and...well, at least she'll eat crackers. That's what they do at this age, huh? Ugh. I need help.

As I feed the Queen her lunch and she continues to throw most everything (Ack! Not the fruit too! Here, have a cracker.) on the floor, I am reminded of something that I read online when the Littlest was about a month old. I was torturing educating myself one morning and decided to take a look at some forum that catered to women who had received a "Poor Prenatal Diagnosis" and went down a path different than my own. What I found there were the thoughts and feelings of many women who had found out that their child had Ds and either chose or were choosing to terminate.

BTW, so not a place for me or anyone in my same position.

But, being that I knew no better at the time, I kept reading. One post said something along the lines of, "I want a child that throws their food because they're two, not because they don't know what food is."

Breath. Gone.

Oh, I cried and I cried that day. My husband and a friend told me to never, never go there again. And to stay off the internet already. (I listened to the first part.)

But, seriously, how ignorant of a statement was that? I didn't know then. For all I knew she was offering some sage advice and was much more fortunate than I because she followed it.

You see, that's what bothers me above most things - that there are people like that out there all over. They're at the daycare, they're at my job, they're at the grocery store, and at my friend's house for dinner. They're in the military spouse group with me and at my college reunion. They're "friends" with me on Facebook. Everywhere. And they're smiling in my face. That's what hurts. I don't know what I'm going to do the first time I hear that my child is the latest gossip.

I know that none of that is within my control. I know that I shouldn't waste my time thinking about that. I know.

So, yeah, she throws her sippy cup. I bought her this and it's working well today. The fruit? Eh. I literally live on a friggin' sand dune so she's just begging the ants to set up shop.

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You know what, I really only came here to post a photo because I told myself that I have way too much to do today to spend time up on my soapbox. So much for that.

Anyway, here's the picture. It's my favorite from that day.