Adele’s “Remedy” has been on my mind lately.

Little Dude was a big fan of Adele’s in the womb. No joke. He moved like crazy whenever one of her songs played on the radio.

Naturally, I played her album for him on restless newborn nights. From the first time I heard it, “Remedy” melted my heart. I’d rock my days-old Little Dude and sing along to the lyrics that perfectly captured what I felt being his mom:

When the pain cuts you deep
When the night keeps you from sleeping
Just look and you will see
That I will be your remedy
When the world seems so cruel
And your heart makes you feel like a fool

I promise you will see
That I will be, I will be your remedy…

If you haven’t heard it, listen to the full song here (and grab some tissues).

Last night was a Night. For roughly three hours, my husband and I stumbled around in a sleepy haze as Little Dude’s emerging molars rallied for the attack. Nothing helped except rocking with Mommy or Daddy in the rocking chair. So we took turns rocking with Little Dude from the time he got his Tylenol until enough time had passed to give him his Motrin.


I’m dragging today. I contemplated calling in to work, even, but here I am.

I still struggle almost daily with not being able to be present for Little Dude during working hours. He’s off playing with his daycare buddies today while I’m on my third cup of coffee at work.

Yet last night, when the pain cut deep, I was indeed his remedy. And that makes me unique and special indeed.

(Side note: I will not, however, heed the advice of sentimentalists who tell me to “cherish every moment.” Nobody in their right mind “cherishes” being up with a screaming child at 2 a.m.)

Pass the coffee; it’s going to be a long day!

coffe cup