I've made it through the week. Or, rather, Elliot has made it through the week, and I've wrung my hands and watched anxiously from the sidelines. It's not just Elliot, either. The longer this goes on with him, the more Charlotte lives in the shadow of "all things pertaining to Elliot." My little star burns a little more sullenly every day.
At times I think that children are born to break your heart.
Other times it doesn't weigh so heavily, but truthfully, it's hard being a mom. There's this awful burden to solve things, and this equally awful weight of knowledge that you can't actually solve anything. The best you can do is never give up, and always be there to hold them close when they feel like flying apart.
But sometimes, sometimes if you're VERY LUCKY, you get a moment of grace. A moment when, out of the blue, you hear your daughter singing Stressed Out in the living room while she prances around in her pink, polka-dotted bikini, and it just changes your whole outlook for at least a little while.
Wish we could turn back time...
to the good old days...
when our Mamas sang us to sleep...
but now we're... Mommy, what's 'spressed out?
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