A little thing called Envy (and love)

Yes, I have it. I recognize other people receiving those precious smiles, those gurgling coos. When you laugh at something your grandmother does, I get so irritated inside; why wasn't I the one who got that giggle from doing the exact same thing ten minutes earlier?

My favorite time of day is first thing in the morning. When I walk in your room and smile down in your crib; you light up like it's Christmas morning. The biggest toothless grin I ever have seen and it warms me deep down into my core. I treasure and I jealously guard that time. I don't like sharing it. It's my only time to see you love me so purely, before your boredom with me sets in.

I am taken for granted. I am Mom. I will be there for everything, but will receive only small kindnesses in return. I'm not angry, I understand the situation. Your grandmother is a novelty to you; a state fair joy ride of sorts. She comes and goes like seasons. Whereas I am the field where that state fair borrows space. I'll always be there, changing my location only to allow other people to interlope and intercept those cries of joy and coos and giggles of pleasure and wonder. But I will always be there, even when you think I'm gone or unaware. I will always be your mother, and you can always find me in that field. I love you.