Mama Crass, Baby Sass...

If you've had a chance to read any of my tweets, you've probably figured out by now that I'm not exactly Donna Reed.  I'm sarcastic, crass and blunt (to a fault) and, yes, there may be just a smidge of indecency mixed in as well.  Though I've softened a little over the years, I'm still holding onto a thin layer of protective gear as an added incentive to continue being sarcastic.  I thought about getting hypnotized once to erase this behavior but, much like smoking, you really have to WANT to quit.  I guess I just wasn't ready.  The problem with having a sharp tongue is that (I've been told), sometimes it comes across as being mean.  Anyone who knows me, really knows me, would tell you that deep down, I'm actually a very thoughtful person and loyal friend, but--enough with the pep rally--some people are just overly sensitive... everyone else is just an idiot!


Okay... I'm gonna drop the armor to the floor and strip myself of all that is witty.  Are you ready for the big reveal?  Here goes: deep down, underneath all the one-liners and smart-ass comments, is Isla's mom.  I never thought I'd love being a mom as much as I do.  Maybe it's because of her--I dunno--but I find myself wishing more and more that I was less and less off an asshole.  My husband and I have been friends for a very long time.  The past few years have been a true test of, not only our friendship, but also our love.  We've been riding a very old and rickety coaster with little padding in the seats and, every once in a while; we hit a bump that leaves us both shaking our heads.  When the dips are low, sometimes I whip out a little extra sarcasm in a failed effort to try and make light of a bad situation, but I've learned that anger is probably not the ideal time to play that particular card.  I guess my point is this: I love to laugh and I do appreciate a sharp tongue, but there is a very fine line humor and pain... and I'd hate for my little girl to confuse the two.  It's my job to make sure she knows the difference, but sometimes I listen to that sassypiehole and think to myself, "What have I done?!"  She's sharp like a tack and quick like swiper, which is a gene that was been passed down from my fathers' side.  It's a strange and wonderful tool, but you really gotta know how to use it.


Tonight, as I was putting my daughter to bed, I noticed something that I hadn't before.  At the end of the day, when no one else is around... we both drop the armor to the floor.  We giggle quietly and I sneak a few kisses, then I tell her how much we love her and how empty our lives would be without her.  We talk about our family and what tomorrow might be like and then I say it, "Good-night, sweetie... Mommy loves you!"  Sometimes she pauses longer than I'd like, but eventually I'll hear a tiny voice from down the hall, "Good-night Mommy... I love you, too!"  No matter how many times I hear it, my heart feels bound in rubber bands and I know--if only just for a split second--I'm really not an asshole.