"Much-loved"

Somtimes I look at Amanda and I am so overwhelmed with love, amazement, joy, anticipation that I can physically feel it wash over me.


Sometimes I think I need to go to counseling so I can learn how to deal with her better.

She is amazing. She is joyful. She makes me laugh.

I want the best for her--I just wish she didn't seem to be always drawing the worst out of me!

She had to take some medicine this morning. She does not like taking medicine, no matter what brand, what flavor. It all tastes gross to her. So she stands in the bathroom, medicine cup in hand, bottle of water in the other. She sips the water, sips the medicine. I can almost see her mind working, "Nope. That didn't work." She put the water bottle to her mouth and the medicine cup to her mouth. Her mind: "Hmmmmmm. I might try it this way. No. This won't work. Try something else." She sips the medicine, then sips the water. That works better. She gets down from the stool and wipes her mouth on a towel. Medicine must have dripped down it. Then she stands at the towel, feeling its softness on her face. She grins (I'm sure she does, even though her back is to me. I just know her.) She climbs on the stool. I laugh. She looks at me, surprised she was being watched. This is the moment when I want to sweep her up in a hug and never let go.

The only way to get her to take her medicine is to leave her alone. If she has an audience, it will take her all day. Trust me on this. I walk to the kitchen and seconds later she comes flying in, "Mom! I'm done!"

I wouldn't put it past her to dump it down the sink just to be done with it.

And I love her for it, yes, even for that. For her audacity to dump it just because she doesn't want to do it. For her eagerness to be back with me in the same room.

She is much-loved. Always and forever.