And At The End Of The Day....

It was bound to happen, and of course it was bound to happen less than a month into things: I was going to pour all of my "I've been hurt" issues out on the freakishly handsome absurdly kind uncomfortably smart new boyfriend in a 237 paragraph email in Shakespearean pros with illustrations and footnotes in 3 languages. And he was going to write back in a completely sensible fashion (which includes about 12 sentences... I never got the memo the rest of the world did on appropriate email lengths) that I'm a very nice girl and he hopes I feel better and he's going to be really nice to me because he likes me.

And now I look like this traumatized moron and he looks like (and is) this very reasonable lovely man who I have no business being with, and that's going to sit in the middle of the table glaring at me. But he won't notice, because he's just that wonderful. Which will make it all the worse. I just ruined all the enjoyable parts of a brand new relationship (it doesn't go back from that kind of disgusting self-inflicted humiliation), in record time. Even for me.

I'm simply not old enough, calm enough, or normal enough to date.

In unrelated events, my daughter told me today that she loves me more than anyone (melt) and that includes daddy (gloat). I informed her that she just loves daddy in a different way but every bit as much as me I'm sure... then I gave her some gummy worms and secretly gloated yet more. Through the day I rescued her from a nightmare, nursed a wounded knee, found a lost doll, calmed two nervous fits of fear that I dare say resembled existential crisis (What am I supposed to be?!" and "I don't know what is going to happen after right now!"-- dude, she totally gets that shit after time with her father, don't look at me) and gave 1 fabulous piggy back ride home from school. The house is a mess, my love life is in shambles that only I am aware of, but this is right... this is natural... this is what I do.

This is what I'm supposed to be. At the end of the day, I can't get anything else right very often, but this is who I am, this is what I know. And if I'm a lame girlfriend, an uninspired student, a scattered blogger at best... I am mommy. And I'm damn fucking good at it, and that's more than enough to go to sleep feeling that all is right with the world next to the little girl who loves me more than anything, despite what I may or may not have done to anything else through the day.