Mom, Replaced

I've been replaced. Daisy has a new mom according to her Facebook profile. I'm o.k. with it. After all, I lived through 24 long hours of childbirth. Really, getting dumped is no big deal, especially if I don't think too hard about green mashed potatoes. Toddler Daisy would eat mashed potatoes only if they were green, so we ate dyed potatoes. And there's no shame in being known as the-woman-formerly-called-mom when I recall the lap full of toddler pee I enjoyed on a flight from Atlanta to St. Louis. Turns out a full can of soda will go somewhere. So will a powdered sugar donut and red juice--that pink combo spewed from Daisy's lips to the back seat of the car. Equally colorful were the screams of third grader Daisy as she dragged her school backpack on the sidewalk enraged that I wouldn't carry it home. She earned a backpack with a hole and I confirmed my certainty that never, ever, would I carry her stuff. New mom might would of. But would she have pulled Daisy out of a piano lesson because the teacher turned out to be dragon lady? Perhaps, as I like to think Daisy picks her moms well. I hope new mom sews. Daisy hates to shop, just like old mom, so stuff gets made for her. That might be something for new mom to ponder. But yes, I'm good with the whole time-for-a-new-mom thing. Except I'm not. Our shared history of Daisy moments and Daisy idiosyncracies makes her mine forever. And, in spite of my nuttiness (the mole dance etc...) Daisy is turning out fine. So take note sorority big sis, I will fight you for the right to be Daisy's mom. Especially today.