Lamentations D:1:3

It’s sad the lives we lead. I mean, truly. What the hell do we think we’re doing anyway? Putzing around, pretending to be important. Trying to do things that we think will make us look important? Hmph. Hmph I say. And yet here I go on my little kick and think that what I’m typing is important. Which it’s not.

So on to other things. My child is fearless. I envy her. She makes those terribly annoying sounds because she know it will drive me crazy and when I chastise her in my scariest, most serious voice she looks at me with amusement and satisfaction. These are not the reactions I wish to provoke. In my fantasies, a harmless gas would escape past my lips, magically inducing her into a deep sleep for a couple of hours so I can concentrate on regaining my sanity. However, she smiles and laughs and resumes her song of screeches and whines with renewed gusto. Argh. What is it about children that makes us want to strangle them one minute and cuddle them to our breasts the next? She looks so sad and lonely in her crib now. Peering out between the bars of her cage, begging me to smile at her. Why? Because she just wants everything to be alright. She just wants every moment to be filled with joy. Children are like that. And for her, I want every moment to be filled with joy as well. I want for her to never be sad, or lonely, or frightened. And it nearly breaks my heart to know that she will be these things, as life is filled with sad, lonely, and frightening moments. Ah, but my love, I will always be here. I will protect and love you, my Babi.

Originally posted January 11, 2003

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