perhaps we can go on a ride together?
i had one of those, 'oh wait, i am a mom now' moments on friday. one of those moments where you're a kid again, remembering something about your childhood. and then thinking about your own kid looking back on his someday.
and worrying that he might remember something not that great about you.
i had such an amazing childhood. it was amazing because it wasn't perfect. it wasn't your idyllic "hey we're happy all the freaking time" childhoods. that's what made it great. it is what made me me.
i so badly want wyatt to have a look-back-and-smile childhood. not a perfect childhood. i want him to remember how excited we get when he comes into the room after waking up from a nap, or how thrilled we are when he does something new for the first time. how proud we are of him. how much we love him. i mean, can we please find a new word for "love"? it's like love times infinity, times infinity again, with about a trillion rainbows shooting from it, with skittle down pours, chocolate waterfalls, and cotton candy clouds in the background.
i'm realistic. i know i'll screw up. i want him to see that i'll make mistakes. i'm counting on it. i hope i can teach him how to show people grace because i know i'll need him to show it to me. i hope i can teach him not only how to forgive, but how amazing it feels to say "i'm sorry". i hope i can teach him how to not take himself too seriously. how laughing at himself can be this weightless, deep, feel-good, natural high. its like breathing life back into yourself.
there's a lot i can control about what he experiences as a child, and a lot i can't. what i can't control, i can make up for in how i love. in how i influence. in what i teach. in how i lead by the best example i know how to be.
i will mess up. and i'm OK with that.
i'm OK with that because i know i'll always tell him i'm sorry.
