Since I'm a year from being an empty-nester, I sway between being very sad to somewhat excited. I'm gloomy that I'll be without my Baby Dumplings but a little excited that I can eat cereal for dinner again.
The flood of memories that keep coming in waves is enough to drown me some days. So I figured I'd shared a glimpse into what it was like mothering my daughter.
Keep in mind; I'm forever on a diet to keep myself significantly overweight. Also, I will NEVER be a recovering sweetaholic.
Tonight, as I patiently stood in line at the grocery deli, my six-year-old daughter sidled over to the Bakery to check out the cakes.
"Please don't leave nose smudges on the glass," I warned her as she lovingly looked at the baked goods in the case.
"Mama, come look at this beautiful cake! It's a baby!" she said.
Sure enough, it was a tiny cake, the perfect size for a child to have several small desserts. It looked like a cupcake on steroids. I told her to have the bakery box it up for her and bring it over to me. Being a recovering sweetaholic, I had no intention of going near the treat.
A few minutes later, she approached me with a cake box in hand and grinning from ear to ear. Then, looking like an angel, she said in a LOUD, clear voice quickly heard two aisles over, "This cake is not for you, Mama, because you are on Weight Watchers! I'm writing on the lid – DON'T EAT WHEN I'M AT SCHOOL!"
She's going up for adoption tomorrow.