I made a huge mistake today.
See, I was slacking off, not wanting to be a grown up today and do my morning duties. I knew I needed to get my ‘mojo’ going, so I decided to play music. Only, the song I chose was my almost-two-year-old’s favorite song, “Escape” by Enrique Iglesius. The song we danced to over and over the day before I delivered my newborn. The one where I held her, intoxicated by her, sobbing heavily into her baby soft neck, knowing it was almost time she no longer be the baby, the youngest anymore. And there I was, holding her new baby brother, I almost felt like I was betraying her, if that’s possible. So I quickly put him down, scooped her up and started to dance with her, much like that day. Except I could feel all of those emotions once more overwhelming me, propelling me right back to that point and before I knew it, there I was, crying again. It’s only been weeks, less than two months. I might have a newborn, but she is still my baby.
It’s a wonder she even likes that song, since mom seems to be a blubbering mess everytime it comes on.
Note to self: Want music to get in the cleaning mood? Avoid that CD like the plague, Li.
