Friday, September 4, 2009


Dear Daughter:
As your Mother I find it in my responsibility to empower you to make your own decisions.
I also find it within my responsibilities to point out your bad decisions.

Let's take for instance the matter of your beloved NaNa, the apple of your eye, the ying to your yang, the coffee in your cream. Your blanket.

Me being the blanket girl I am, was set on creating offspring who were blanket people. There was just no way around it from my perspective. I think from those first few moments I felt you flutter deep inside, I had blanket on the brain. I wanted to be the bearer of your blanket, to present you with life's greatest gift.

And when I found what my mind's eye was envisioning, I handpicked you a deep, rich, chocolate brown blanket for three reasons:

1. It matched your nursery
2. I heart the color brown
3. It would camouflage life's daily dirt

But no, you defiant little twerp, you chose to fall in love with your NaNa by your own volition. And you chose a light pink version for your BFF. Light pink! It has your name on it, and pretty cream colored polka dots. I adored swaddling you in its pure layers of baby goodness way back when. But alas, you're my little Linus and where there's Lil' Dude, there's NaNa.

And, MERCY me. The dirt. The blackberry stains. The garden foliage. The grease from the truck hinges. The Cheetos prints. The black Beagle fur. The grass stains. The crusties from your sad tears and snotty nose. The gray grime of daily love.

I have to employ every secret military tactic and Kung-Foo move known to man to get this thing in the wash machine without you noticing. If you bust me, you wail pathetically in the laundry room repeating, NO, NaNa wet. No NaNa, WET!

And so I prop you up on the washer, dry your tears and remind you that this is your fault, that you made this decision.
Because that's what Mamas do!
But, Mama loves.
You and that stinky NaNa, too.

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