Re-Mommying The Tiny Monster

Supposed to love myself… Reparent My Inner Kid

The Scowling Little Me, This Growling Tiny Monster.

Give her something stuffed, I suppose…

Bear Platypus Hedgehog Something…

A soft, soothing playmate for her to devour?

I’ve no idea, actually.

Be soft and gentle, I guess… ’til she calms?

Hug her... This Wee She-Beast.

Comfort and care for

this squishy monstrous unpredictable force

with her still chubby arms, tight fists…

no tired or grey parts.

So many years belated, I’m tasked with, so I’m told...

snuggling swaddling cooing…

I hear you. I see you. I love you.

Should listen when The She That Is The Smaller Me screams…

Its not fair! I hate you! I hate everyone! I want to die! Nobody listened!

I am to say, Good Mommy that I am...

All the Right Things.

My mission…

to quell Mighty Mini Me’s Shitstorm of Rage.

Supposed to have answers for My Tiny Self

who found a way through so many years back.

Be to her a...

"To the moon and back" kind of loving / Fully present / Baby Björn-wearing / Skin-on-skin / Vegan home-cooking / “Did you have a bad dream?” / Waldorf-believing / Never-sweat-in-yoga-class / “Let’s talk about it” / Cozy co-sleeping / Soft-place-to-land / "I'm never leaving... I’m always here for you... always." / Do-over / (I'll-do-it-right-this-time) / Mother-Earthly-perfect / Mommiest of Mommies...

But Grown Me… This Me Me screams…

Its not fair! I hate me! I hate everyone! I’m not listening!

And, in moments thinks, too…

I want to die!

And…

I suck at this!

And…

WHY THE FUCK IS THIS MY JOB?

But then I see her again, That Damn Little Fighter…

who kicks her own sand castles

claws my face when we snuggle...

And I hear her through the wall threatening the babysitter…

As I, Her Broken-UnMother…

downward dogs with thighs jiggling

Zooms in sharp tones with an ungrateful employer

holds my finger above the key that will send a regrettable email (words Little She no doubt began writing in crayon years ago.)

And despite it all,

That Pint-Sized Savage smashing toys, wreaking havoc…

breaks my heart , cuz she's still so damn lovable.

So I relent...

decide to tell The Wee She, The Puff-cheeked Brute

her fight's over, that I’ll take it from here...

that though she kicks, claws, threatens, screams…

she deserves that fucking bear, is worthy of a whole stuffed animal zoo, bowing down to her monumental courage.

And This Now Me, who...

beyond appropriate age, and despite barren womb,

carried and birthed A Tiny Fierce Ball of Still-Needs-Love-Madness...

This At-The-Moment Patch-worked / Frayed / Grey-at-the-temples / Warped and Worn-out / Musty Mama...

will rally what strength she has left to save the poor sitter from an untimely death.

Then I'll put Baby Beast Me on my lap and as she...

squirms, pulls my hair, and tells me I'm...

too old/ too fat /too late/ don’t smell like a Mommy, that I’m stupid for trying…

I'll Google “What do good Mommies do?”

Even though she’s a bit of a brat...

and I’m still not a big fan of children.

(dedicated to those still raising their Little Selves... I hear you. I see you. I love you.)