Complete Bliss

Last night Dylan wouldnt sleep in his bed. He woke every hour on the hour, and I was intent on drinking a bottle of wine. Two glasses in and half way through "Ugly Betty" he cried again. I heard little feet thumping across the ceiling and suddenly he wailed.

I put out my fag (one should always keep the available homosexual available) and headed upstairs. There clinging on to the door gate was a little elf, his trouser leg to his new pj's climbing up his legs, his hair ruffled and his bottom lip trembling, his little arms held out "mummy".

I went into the bathroom and swilled my mouth, washed my hands and sprayed myself with deodorant - I hate the thought of him smelling me full of smoke - so I go through this rigmorole if I have slipped myself a sneaky fag.

He still cried out.

I picked him up and carried him into my room and he snuffled himself into my chest, his hand gently stroking my face and I felt bliss. I want to be a good mummie, I want to give this little being everything I can, to show him the good in our world, to teach him to laugh and dance, to listen when he is talked to and to smile through his fears. I want to protect him, hold him back from the scary stuff and wrap him in bubble wrap. I want to take him in my arms and make sure he is never hurt.

This is cleaning up poo one moment and loving his smile the next. Is this unconditional love?