Giving {up and in}

It's late evening...I've tried putting you to bed, but you had other desires. I give in and bring you out to play. The lights are off, just a glow from the TV lights the roundness of your cheeks. You stand, legs unsteady and knees buckling every so often, holding onto my fingers. It's just you and I tonight. And I'm tired.

I would be lying if I said I didn't wish you were sound asleep and I could sit in silence. But alas, here I am, tiny fingers relying on mine to steady the world. I smile though, as you gaze past me to some brightly colored plastic music-making toy, eyes hungry. And I think these are the moments that motherhood is made of - these are the tiny millions of instances of giving up on my desires and helping you achieve yours.

Everyday I'm learning how selfish I can be. You're teaching me that it really is better to give than receive. And so tonight, I give up and I give in. To being awake. To spending a few more hours with you. To expecting that our night will go as I want. To everything I'm not and everything you are.