I know I'm a mom

For real.
I know I'm a mom now that...
I can sing over 30 different verses to The Wheels on the Bus.
Dirty diapers don't phase me.
I know we need to be home by 6 p.m. Sharp.
I spend a considerable portion of my time crawling on the floor.
I wake up at the smallest sound.
1,000 kisses a day doesn't feel like nearly enough.
I cry over spilled breast milk.
On the Day You Were Born chokes me up every time.
I realize I'm still wearing that froggy headband when I look in the mirror.
But I'm not sure how long I've had it on.
I'm sad at 8:00 each morning but start looking forward to 3:30 around noon.
I can watch a video monitor for hours.
I worry a lot more. About a lot more.
I feel my heart swell in my chest every time I think of you.

Not Perfect

When I try to read books to you I get frustrated that you just want to chew on them.
We've resorted to disposable diapers and formula at times.
I can't be home with you the way that I'd like.
You don't get a bath as often as you should.
Your fingernails are getting long and sharp.
You've fallen off a bed... twice.
I let you crawl on dirty floors.
We always talk to strangers.
You've had a black eye.
I let you cry in bed.
I give in, too.
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