Mother's Day
Title: Mother's Day
Author: JoJo
Genre: Gen
Words: 200
Characters: Maude, baby Ezra
Disclaimer: Not ever never
Summary: Little darlin' won't stop bawlin'
A/N: A double drabble for (UK) Mother's Day. Any sentiments contained within this work of fiction bear absolutely no resemblance to anything I may ever have thought about my own delightful babies while going out of my tiny mind alone at home ;)
No one tells you.
Not your grandmother, your mother, your aunts with their cheerful broods, not your best and wisest friends.
No one explains that a child will suck the marrow right out of you.
And Lord in Heaven, the frustration. The weariness. The resent.
Maude rocks Ezra as she paces in the sweltering afternoon. He won’t quiet down. He won’t sleep, won’t take milk, won’t accept blandishments. Just cries and cries and cries, like he’s lost in the wilderness. Each time it seems like he’s tired himself out and she plants him into the yawning crib, his bright eyes open and that look of despair flashes on to his face. Then it all begins again.
Finally, when she’s rocked and sobbed and begged and bellowed at him, he suddenly falls asleep, mid-hiccup. His perfect lashes are wet, his expression enough to twist your heart into a thousand knots.
Maude doesn’t dare lay him down. She continues the endless walk, her difficult little stranger biding his time in the uneasy crook of her arm.
This is, without a doubt, the worst thing that’s ever happened to her.
She does love him so.
And it will never, ever, be enough.
Author: JoJo
Genre: Gen
Words: 200
Characters: Maude, baby Ezra
Disclaimer: Not ever never
Summary: Little darlin' won't stop bawlin'
A/N: A double drabble for (UK) Mother's Day. Any sentiments contained within this work of fiction bear absolutely no resemblance to anything I may ever have thought about my own delightful babies while going out of my tiny mind alone at home ;)
No one tells you.
Not your grandmother, your mother, your aunts with their cheerful broods, not your best and wisest friends.
No one explains that a child will suck the marrow right out of you.
And Lord in Heaven, the frustration. The weariness. The resent.
Maude rocks Ezra as she paces in the sweltering afternoon. He won’t quiet down. He won’t sleep, won’t take milk, won’t accept blandishments. Just cries and cries and cries, like he’s lost in the wilderness. Each time it seems like he’s tired himself out and she plants him into the yawning crib, his bright eyes open and that look of despair flashes on to his face. Then it all begins again.
Finally, when she’s rocked and sobbed and begged and bellowed at him, he suddenly falls asleep, mid-hiccup. His perfect lashes are wet, his expression enough to twist your heart into a thousand knots.
Maude doesn’t dare lay him down. She continues the endless walk, her difficult little stranger biding his time in the uneasy crook of her arm.
This is, without a doubt, the worst thing that’s ever happened to her.
She does love him so.
And it will never, ever, be enough.