Mama!

Mama, I want cereal!
Mama, my not feel good!
Mama, my not want Pippin to touch me!
My not want Dada, only Mama can give me medicine!
Mama, my nose is running!

In my mind I am sitting in the middle of the room, legs and arms crossed, 2 year old pout smeared across my adult features. Chin slightly elevated in protest. I am refusing to run around like a chicken with its head cut off in an effort to meet the never-ending demands of my flu-ridden almost 3 year-old daughter.

My want goldfishies!
My want waffles!
Mama, you carry me upstairs!
My need to go potty!
Mama, my want juice!

In my mind, I am in a comfy chair, the ear buds attached to my iPod firmly set in my ears with the volume so loud I can’t hear anything else. A martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other. My senses sufficiently numbed to the grating whine emanating from my normally loud but purposeful children.

Mama, my ear hurts!
Mama, my head hurts!
Mama, my am cold!
Mama, my want blanket!
My want to get dressed now!

In my mind I am whining just as loudly as they are. In my mind I am tired and laying flat on my stomach, my limbs flailing out of control, my voice taken to a pitch not usually allowed for adults. In my mind I am single and childless, sitting in the morning sun with a cup of coffee and a book. In my mind I am sitting in a board room conducting an important meeting where important people are listening to important me. In my mind I am lunching at a bistro in Paris.

Mama, my need your help!
Mama, my am hungry!
Mama, you blow my nose now!
My want an orange!
My not want those shoes!

But in reality, I am sitting on the couch next to The Girl. With her giving her best attempt to actually crawl into my skin she’s so close. I am doing my best to help her feel better. I am biting my tongue. I am giving her hugs and kisses. I am being a mama.