Last week, and this week as well has been wonderful and quite stressful. Jeff and I revel in family and friends. We welcome everybody and turn away no one. Our house is THE house. Since Wednesday of last week, we have been the place to be for everything that is TWOC (the wedding of the century). We have been up late every night, eaten too much and laughed until we slept.
When I picked up Lilly this evening after her first day of full afternoon extended care, I knew we had a causality of the last week. James and I walked in the Extended Care Room and when I looked at my little five year old angel, my heart broke. Her eyes instantly filled with tears and she ran to me. This was a new precedent. My baby girl was tired, sad and needed to be with her mommy. I failed her. I was devastated.
It took me sometime to figure out that she was just so overtired. The weekend of birthday parties, houseguests and late nights caught up with her. What I realized, though, was I forget my little girl is five. She has the vocabulary of a twelve year old, the personality of a thirty year old, yet she is five. FIVE. She is a baby who needs her mommy to hug her and hold her.
We have a big rest of the week. It will be full of many more late nights and no quiet time days, but I will remind myself that my first born needs time and so many hugs. I refuse to let her heart break again. At least not until she is of dating age and then I will break out my shotgun. (I don't own one of those, but I may need to look into it!)