Aster is the most compassionate, lovely person. I am not.
During an episode of grief, while holding her baby style, I found myself crying right along with her. Not proud. It was the first time that it just seemed too much for me to keep in. I'm not strong.
Noticing that I was crying, she rubbed my arm gently, looked in my eyes and in her typical generous way said, "I love you mama."
This morning I made pancakes for breakfast. Since I multi-task and am easily distracted, I repetitively under and over cook them. I sneaky eat those.
I put the plate of edible pancakes out. Aster asks for 3 (I squeal with delight, she's starting to fill out those 2T undies!). Judah takes 2, Tommy takes 3. There's one left for me (I'm full, but want to join in). Aster eyes me and instantly walks around the table with one of hers, insisting that I take it. I have to convince her that I'm full.
I am very attached to my little girl. Aster loves for me to take care of her and I love each moment that she lets me. I'm so glad she gives me that, because in every other way, I'm the one that needs to learn and grow.