suddenly they’re giants, or they will be soon, and the crushing realization that i'm building a life that will one day exclude me, that this very work of motherhood is designing my own obsolescence. and then they say it, that thing, "i love you, mommy" and the lump in my throat, the burning behind my eyes and the week of chaos is just... gone. like it never happened. i guess that's the trap, isn't it? that little spark, that little shot of bliss right into the vein. then it's all worth it again, stepping on legos and the goldfish crumbs and the constant, unending, relentless need. oh god, the NEED. and i want to say 'please, just let me pee alone' but instead i scoop them up and inhale that baby smell, that milky sweet scent that will also fade someday and then what will i have left of them?