I am turning to mush.
I don’t know what happened. I am telling you, I used to be anti-mush.
I am someone that when I was 15 and a boy asked if he could kiss me, I let a screen door slam in his face.
A boy brought me a rose to school and I said, “Am I supposed to carry this around all day?”
A boy told me he loved me for the first time and I said, “You better!”
I didn’t marry any of those boys, by the way. Shock. I don’t know how I kept getting dates.
Now, I am mush.
Because of this boy.
Doesn’t he just make you mushy?!
Yeah, me too.
I let him take his nap on me yesterday. For 2.5 hours. And the remote was out of reach. And my other boys were sleeping so I couldn’t call for help. I lost feeling in my legs and one of my arms. I think one may need to be amputated. But I totally don’t care. Because…
I just stared at Tom. And thought about how wonderful he was. And how much I loved him.
All of these things are easy to think when he’s napping in my arms, all angelic-like.
But then even after his nap I just kept saying out loud, “I love Tom so much.”
And then I would say to Tom, “You know what I love about you? Every little thing.”
And then I would scoop him up and give him silly kisses while he giggled. And then I just kept holding him. And then I kept looking at him with a weird mommy glaze over my eyes. Just thinking, “This is the best. This is the best time of my life. I love him SOOOOOOOOOO much.”
Then he pooed all over himself and me so it briefly snapped me out of it.
But I then went right back to being all crazy gushy.
I don’t think there is a cure.
I think the next time someone gives me a rose at school that I may just say, “This is so sweet. I love it! Thank you!” and then I’ll cry from joy.
After that I promise to figure out what the heck I’m doing in school and why some weird boy is giving a married woman a flower.
But only after I skip down the hall with my rose in hand, bragging about how cute and wonderful my baby is.