The Proof is in the Vomit

Dear Ella,
I woke up in the middle of the night to find you covered in avocado vomit. I love you to the ends of this earth but avocado vomit is not pleasant, not even yours. It's 9:26 a.m. and it's been a full day thus far. I've scraped a variety of vomitous material off of three separate outfits, changed a diaper (I will spare you the gory details), made a quick run to the grocery store to obtain a "flu survival kit", scrubbed clean a car seat full of the vomitous material mentioned above and made three frantic phone calls from leading authorities on ouchies and upset stomachs. All the while, you maintain your sunny disposition which has gotten me through these morning hours.

This introduction could evolve into several different themes. I could spend a moment to appreciate your general good health thus far or highlight your seeming determination to get through rough patches with a smile. But, no, I'd rather take advantage of this moment to make a very important case. Perhaps this bedraggled mother with vomit smeared into her sweater can take this moment to inject some guilt into the future teenage Ella. I hope the opening paragraph provides evidence of my deep, unconditional love. I always want to be here to wipe away any hurt (be it stomach contents, a broken heart or a chipped self esteem). I hope that one day when we are fighting in the kitchen about curfew you can look back on this email and know how much I love you. My only motivation is your health and happiness. You are my sunshine.
xoxo,
Mom