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Monday, April 9, 2012

Hiccups

So, I have hiccups all the time. Not the diaphragm-spasm kind; the silly mistake kind.

It's really no mystery why people refer to little mistakes as hiccups. When someone says there's been a "hiccup" in the plan, they're usually talking about something minor. A bump in the road. A complication, rather than a major screw-up. It's annoying, but it happens--we all mess up sometimes, and most of those times it's just a hiccup. A mistake we'll forget about instantly, something without any lasting complications, like going to Wal-Mart for milk and coming home with ten things, none of them dairy-related. You can always go back, and though it's an inconvenience, you'll tell your friends later and everyone will laugh.

But, given time, even the smallest mistakes can be overwhelming. Like droplets of water, they are harmless in small quantities and deadly in large amounts. Have you ever known a person you really liked at first, but after a while you just couldn't stand being around them? It's pretty common among college roommates, best friends, and spouses. Those little hiccups, the tiniest mistakes, can eventually make a huge difference in a relationship if they're not dealt with. I happen to be lucky enough that my best friend (who was also my college roommate) is forgiving enough, and enough like me, that we loved being roomies. My husband is the same way. And no matter how often one of them makes a mistake, they always make up for it later--though honestly, I'm positive that they make less mistakes than me.

Kids are a completely different matter. They're constantly making mistakes or getting in the way, constantly causing little hiccups--you can't go out with your friends like you planned because there's no one to babysit. You give them a bath, and an hour later they're covered in their dinner, or worse. They break your favorite picture frame, or keep you up at night. They bite, pull hair, and when they're old enough, they lie to your face and ignore the rules you so carefully put in place to protect them. And they rarely make up for it. Especially when they're young, they have no concept of right and wrong, no reason to say sorry, because they don't understand how not to be selfish.

It happens to me all the time. I love Olivia to death, but there are days I feel like I can't handle it anymore. I hand her off to the grandparents and swear I'll take a day for myself. But every time, I spend my entire "me" period thinking about her. Wondering how she is, what she's doing, what I'm missing.

She never says sorry for the problems she causes, the little hiccups in my day, the extra pounds or the stretch marks I'll probably never lose. She's six months old; she doesn't even understand that anything she does could affect anyone else.

But that's okay, because she doesn't have to apologize--there's something about being a mom, something about having a child, that gives you more love and patience than you'll ever know what to do with. I'd probably want to strangle an adult who messed up so so constantly, but with her, I really don't care how often those little hiccups annoy me--all it takes is that little toothless smile to make up for a bad day.

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