Posts Tagged With: trust

What’s best for children?

Y’all my husband is hurting.
And mad. I’m talking about a ferocity written all over his face before he even finished a full sentence!
It takes a great deal to make him angry.
This deal came in the form of an email from the mother of his children.

Thing G starts college in less than two weeks.
Thing G plans to commute to NOVA for two years before transferring to another school. This was a decision he made on his own and shared with us the whys and wherefores. We supported his decision.
Thing G does not have his license and cannot drive without one of us with him in the car.
His mom began planning who could drive him to college which days without discussing it with anyone. She sent an email to YBW while we were in New Orleans outlining said plan. YBW scoffed and ignored it.
You see, YBW already told Thing G that neither he nor I would drive the boy to college and he needed a plan to get back and forth to school if he didn’t have his license by the time school started. Kid gets on the internet and finds there’s a local bus that will carry him from a stop 1.3 miles from this house to the mall where he will then switch to a bus that will take him to NOVA.
Done and done.
He comes to me with questions of how much time did I think it would take him to walk the distance and we decided he could practice and I’d come pick him up and bring him home. I told him we could do it as many times as he liked until he was comfortable with his timing.
Either Thing G has not volunteered this information to his mother, or his mother never asked, hence the email.

Well, the day we came home from New Orleans, YBW took him to meet with his adviser. (Thing G specifically requested YBW for this task.) Then they went back to his mom’s house to share the information.
Turns out Thing G also drops the bomb that he will no longer be going back and forth between his parents houses now that he’s eighteen and starting college. He has decided to live in this house with YBW and me full time.
And his reasons are as follows:
Mom’s house is 1.5 miles further away from the bus stop.
There is no sidewalk between Mom’s house and our house.

I was not present during this discussion but YBW relayed it in great detail when he got home.
The kid was clear. The kid looked his mother in the face and told her these were his plans. His ideas. The kid stood his ground when the tears came. He loves his mom and doesn’t want to hurt her, but God love him, he doesn’t want to walk that much further on a fairly rural road that isn’t really safe. He’s completely practical. If his mother lived in this house and we lived in the other one, it would be the same house, different parent. The kid is even leaving his dog.

So that’s the story.
Here’s where it gets interesting.

YBW got an email yesterday from Thing G’s mom in which she shares her dissatisfaction with this arrangement. In this email, she accuses YBW and me of going behind her back and making choices for her sons. She blames YBW for the changes in the way their family functions. She closes with something to the effect of she wanted him to know how she felt, but isn’t sure he cares.

I only read it once and I know I’m missing things, but this is the gist.
She’s mad that she’s no longer in control of what their family does.
She’s blaming him (and me) for changing that.
She’s being manipulative with questioning if he cares how she feels.

I ask if he wants to respond.
Emphatically no.

The more he talks about this email, the madder he becomes. Never raises his voice, but his face, and body language, and tightness in his throat express his anger.
He worries she’ll try to manipulate Thing G to stay with her or continue to go back and forth.
He’s mad she’s pissy about me.
(Honestly, I’ve been waiting for that to rear it’s head, and I’m surprised I’m not more of the ‘lightening rod of hate’.)
He’s hurt and angry that she questioned whether or not he cares about how she feels.
Y’all my husband was bent!

We continued to talk about it, and he cooled down a bit.
We discussed that the difference between the way she runs her house and the way we run this one is that we ask questions and she gives commands.
YBW asks his son, What do you think? How would you like it to be? How can you solve this problem?
YBW is actively working to treat his son like an adult. He’s willing to let him fall on his face and get bloodied up. Instead of rescuing him, or fixing things for him, he wants to show his son that it’s OK to fail once in a while. Failure is simply a learning process. One every human needs to experience.
He told their mother this and she went on about how Thing G is not neurotypical and he needs support. YBW reminded her that neurotypical or not, he had to learn to become a self-sufficient adult.
Everyone agrees he shouldn’t be a thirty year old man living in his parents basement. Yet only one of his parents is actively doing anything to prohibit that.

Listen, I understand how hard it is to be away from one’s children. But it is only natural that they eventually fly the nest. And all the blaming and passive aggression, and temper fit throwing has nothing to do with what’s best for the child and everything to do with the parent desperately clinging to the desire to control.

What it comes down to is that she wants her current husband, her former husband, and her sons to be figures on a chess board that she can move around as she sees fit.
She did it that way for so long.
And in the last five years, there has been a shift in YBW. He’s no longer on her chess board. He’s living his life.
In my heart of hearts, I believe she’s more frustrated that she no longer controls what YBW does than what’s going on with her sons.

She was very clear that YBW and I are making decisions for her sons and she doesn’t like it.
And I’m over here like, your sons are making these decisions, they’re just not talking with you about it.
Is it because she doesn’t ask? Absolutely.
But another factor is that I truly believe they’re frightened by her. That if they share their plans with her she’ll be reactive instead of receptive.
YBW has remarked something to the effect that you can only play devil’s advocate for so long before you suck the passion from people.

Here’s the thing that kills me. She’s his mom. But I’m asking, What’s best for Thing G, and trying to make that happen.
While his own mother rails and spits and blames because she can no longer control them. I’m sacrificing my freedom for a child that isn’t technically mine.
Why?
Because I love him.
I treat him the same way I treated my girls.
I want him to be the best possible version of himself he can. But that won’t happen if we continue to baby him. To rescue him, and fix things for him. To treat him as though he is his diagnosis.
I trust that Thing G will become a self-sufficient adult because we’re going to help him learn how to be. We’re going to have his back but let him fall. We’re going to continue to ask him how, and what he wants to choose for his life.

I committed to YBW’s sons when I committed to him. Just as he did with my girls.
They’re all our kids. Doesn’t matter that DNA doesn’t match. We’re committed to each other and our collective children because we want to be. Because we made the choice to be. They’re not yours and mine, they’re ours.
He does things for the girls that their father doesn’t.
I do things for the boys that their mother won’t.

We want our kids to be the best possible versions of themselves!
We want to help them get there.
We know that means sometimes we’ll have to step back and watch them falter.
We know we can’t dictate how they should do it.

People’s lives cannot be lived out on a chess board controlled by someone that thinks they know best.
Children must be given the best possible foundation with which to build their own lives.
Chess boards aren’t a solid enough foundation.
YBW knows that.
Thing G knows that.
They’ve begun making their own moves.
Thing G is trying to bolster his own foundation even though he’s not sure how to go about it.

YBW worries that Thing G’s mom will attempt to manipulate him to change his mind.
I said, We have to trust Thing G.
YBW said, I do.

You gotta trust your kids.
You gotta trust that what you’ve given them will get them through.
You gotta expect those “Mommie I need you!” phone calls, or late night knocks on the door, “Dad, help!”
I know the girls are going to be successful. I know they’re going to fall, going to fail. But the fact they get back up and keep at it is what it’s all about.
I’m looking forward to experiencing that with the boys too.

As parents we have no choice but to trust our kids as they take flight.
It’s so f**king hard and scary!
But it’s what’s best for those kids.
Isn’t that what it’s all about? What’s best for children…

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Categories: on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

note to self

emma-blecker

Words to keep me safe and sane in this dull gray time.
I laughed yesterday for the first time in (I honestly don’t know how many) days. And I mean really laughed. A great big cackle from deep in my belly. I was on the phone with my sister in law and nephew and niece.
I learned an important lesson today: Sometimes the phone rings when you need it to. Answer it.

I shall remember to breathe.
This is me breathing…
I shan’t drown in my own storm.
I have faith. I trust.
Like Peter Pan, I believe firmly that all the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.
How about a little sprinkle my way?

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

sense of urgency: true or false

I woke early this morning with a sense of urgency.
I find this peculiar for two reasons. The first being that I didn’t even get in bed until after midnight, then to be that ‘bright eyed and bushy tailed’ before 6:00? #needmybeautysleepyo
The second is that I have a simple day planned. Quick and easy errands, and meeting with a couple of lula consultants to swap out inventory. #lifeofleisuremuch
This is not earth shattering stuff, people. So why this acute sense of urgency?

Actually, I’m not sure that’s the right question…for once in my life I may not need to ask why. #stopthepresses
I have a sneaking suspicion the question should be more along the lines of: Is this a true sense of urgency?
Not why is there urgency, but is the urgency real or is it false?
A false sense of urgency (must find thesaurus) is nothing more than excuse to spin your wheels. I have no patience for that. I spent enough of my life spinning my wheels and getting nowhere. #aintnobodygottimeforthat
Of course, this doesn’t feel false. And I’m really examining it. Like, with tweezers and a microscope examining it. And here’s what I’ve come up with.
It is a true sense of urgency. But it has little to do what I may or may not need to accomplish in the world today. In (my) reality, it has everything to do with who I am and want to become.

It took me forty years to realize that I was smarter and more capable than I’d ever been given credit for. And that every choice I made, good, bad, indifferent, got me to that place within myself. The best part was that I actually liked the me I was.
At the time, forty years was my entire life. I had been kept down by the naysayers and never really knew it. I didn’t believe in myself because I’d been taught negative inner speech and spent a lifetime listening to it.
When I discovered I was brave and strong and capable I was finally able to tune out the naysayers. #damntheman
I was creating my own new and positive inner speech. #imatotalbamf

Of course, life actually gets in the way of this knowing and it’s easy to forget. It’s easy to hear that old negative inner speech as I go through the motions of daily life.
I flounder. I get lost. But that spark of knowledge is always there. I simply must remember to look for it. I found a glimpse of it recently! I even wrote about it, here.
Knowing my truest self has been a curious journey. I’ve been run off the road a few times, I stopped for food and fuel and chose not to get back on the road. I drove the party bus, not caring about the journey, just having fun. But I am a destination girl, the journey makes me weary. Luckily, I’ve met my truest self and spent sacred time traveling with her. Makes the journey less tedious.

This sense of urgency inside me is to remind me to keep tightly the knowledge of who I am and what it means. The sense of urgency is to guide me on my journey. To keep me on the right path. To help me create new positive inner speech, because if I do that enough, my brain will seek these new patterns and no longer fall into the old negative ones.
This sense of urgency is the fire in my belly stoking itself. To keep me from becoming complacent. To help me not let life get in the way of knowing.

I find it’s very rarely about what you accomplish out in the world.
I find it’s almost always about who you are and are becoming every day.
Be the truest you.
Not the “best possible you”. That’s holding yourself to external standards. #ohhellno
Be the truest you. Only you know what that means.

Trust yourself. Create the kind of self that you will be happy to live with all your life. Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement. ~ Golda Meir #word

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Robynbird thoughts

The painters are here again this morning. They’re Spanish speaking and the foreman has a little radio on his belt while he paints my front door. The morning DJs are speaking Spanish but they just played Will Smith’s Men in Black. It made me giggle.
That movie came out the summer Thing 2 was born. My precious sister in law had Thing 1 with her while Thing 2 was born. They came to the hospital to visit and Thing 1 sang the Men in Black song to me. It was the first time I heard it. And though I’ve seen (and loved) the movie, I always think of that moment in the hospital when my three year old blonde pigtailed girl sang me a song to cover her sadness that she couldn’t hold her baby sister because she was in the NICU.

I had plans to go the farmer’s market this morning with my neighbor, but I can’t leave the guy kneeling in the doorway painting the front door. So we wait…and perhaps a farmer’s market trip turns into afternoon cocktails when her kids wake from their naps. They’ll paddle in the baby pools on their back deck while they’re mommy and I enjoy champagne cocktails.

The lula launch was a success! So many ladies in our basement going through and trying on clothes for about three hours. It was a fun estrogen fueled evening. When the trying on of clothes went on too long in the bedroom, there were flashes of undies and bras as they decided not to care and just began trying on clothes where they stood. Reminded me of high school.
There was a great deal of “Oh girl, YES!” and “You NEED that!” and “Your ass is perfection in that skirt.” as encouragement. We offered opinions and compliments and ideas for new and different outfits. I had a ball!
AND I had great sales, booked one online party and had one friend ask questions about becoming a consultant.
Overall I’d say it was a success!

I interviewed for a job at one of the local elementary schools yesterday, it’s a part time position as a “cafeteria hostess” this means I get to spend four hours a day with young children without the rigors and responsibilities of running a classroom. The AP and I got on beautifully, she was impressed with my passion and experience for early childhood education. I was impressed that she feels so strongly about learning through play. It felt right. I want it to be my new school family.
I was offered a position at my old, old preschool. Three days a week in the classroom I originated. I met with the director, liked her, and put a great deal of thought into the offer.
But that was telling. I put thought into the offer, but I felt nothing. I didn’t know it in my gut. I had to think about it. And that means it’s not right for me.
Of course I never considered the practical things: The ridiculous commute. The tiny salary.
I just waited for my gut to know. And because it never did, I’m going to turn down the offer. This will create sadness at the school, especially for the individuals who suggested I “come home” in the first place. But if I’m not true to me, how can I give those children and their families what they need?

I’m thinking of a line from Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity:
“I’ve been thinking with my guts since I was fourteen years old, and frankly speaking, between you and me, I have come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains.”
I always trust my gut.
My gut does not have “shit for brains”.
When my brain tries to logic and my heart simply feels, my gut tells them to get it together and makes clear the right choice.
I trust that.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

a twisted desire to send a thank you note

Once there was a man that broke my heart.
When I say ‘broke my heart’, I mean he ripped out my heart while I watched. Then he stomped on it and kicked it into the corner where he left it for the dust bunnies.

In the aftermath, I was like a junkie without a fix. Shaking and wan, huddled in a ball. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I lost fifteen pounds and only left the house to go to work.

I was broken. I was absolutely pathetic. I believed I was completely unlovable. I was so far down the rabbit hole and I had no real desire to come out.

Then I met YBW. The first time we were together (after dating over the phone and via email and text for several months) he told me: I think I’m falling in love with you.
I didn’t know what to do with that. I wasn’t ready to say it to him. I was overwhelmed, but in a good way. In that moment I decided to trust him. To be completely open and ready for whatever we would experience together.

I would never have been ready to have YBW in my life if I hadn’t lived through that awful time. I would never have been able to trust him or expect him to trust me.

I thought briefly about the man that broke my heart earlier this week. He didn’t deserve me. I was a fool to share my heart. He knows what he’s missing. To be loved by me is unbelievably special. If he hadn’t convinced me that I was unlovable, I would never have been ready to love and be loved by YBW. I had to be dead empty before I could learn to love in an entirely new way.
I felt such gratitude. And a twisted desire to send a thank you note. (I didn’t and won’t.)

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

we cannot function from a place of fear

I have to admit I’m uncomfortable with what I’m seeing on social media after the events in Paris Friday night. I know that people honestly believe they’re being helpful and supportive, but I can’t see how painting over your facebook photo with the French flag makes a real difference. The desire to rally around the people of France is real and natural, but does it need a hashtag?
People lost their lives. Their families are grieving. A nation, the entire world grieves with them.
I absolutely want the ability to wrap my arms around all the people of the world to help them feel safe. I can’t do that.
Perhaps that’s what the flag overlay is about, feeling like you’re helping when you can’t actually help.
I suspect a percentage of those people have done it just because it’s in vogue. The French people can’t see their flag superimposed over all these photos. Only the friends and followers can see. This is why I question it.
It feels so politicized to me.
I see people talking about hanging a “closed” sign on the doors of the US. They want the people of Europe to do the same. Lock out anyone who might bring terror.
Are not the people fleeing their homes and country running from the threat of terror?

I sound like I’m judging. I’m not.
I’m uncomfortable because it almost feels more like an agenda than solidarité.

I have not changed my facebook profile photo and I won’t. I have not gotten on a soapbox. But that doesn’t mean I’m not frightened and horrified by what’s happening in the world. It doesn’t mean that I’m not supportive of the people of France, or the people of Lebanon. It doesn’t mean that I’m not supportive of the Kenyan students.
It means I don’t know how my support can and will manifest itself.
I choose not to speak about what I don’t know, what I struggle to understand.

I don’t understand this desire to kill innocent people to create chaos and fear. How does belief in God warrant that kind of action? What kind of God wants that?

I am blessed to know that the people I love are safe. My heart aches for those who cannot say the same.
I’m staying quiet because I don’t understand.
My quiet does not reflect my lack of concern, love, or desire for peace.
I send love and light into the world trusting that it will grow.
I don’t need a flag for that.

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I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.

I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.

This tiny verse from Song of Solomon makes my heart so happy. A emailed me about the wedding bulletin asking from which version of the Bible I pulled this Old Testament reading because she wasn’t sure about it. My Bible is a New King James version, a gift from my mother.

YBW’s nephew is doing this particular reading. Song of Solomon 2:10-14,16 and 8:6-7. I “cherry picked” what I liked most. (It’s my Bible AND my wedding so I can read what I want to.) As much as I love what’s going on in this bit of scripture, it’s 2:16 that sells it. In my Bible is actually reads: My beloved is mine and I am his. But I like it the other way better.

What’s so wonderful about it is that it isn’t just YBW and me as beloveds. It’s about being beloved of God.
A personal relationship with God is intimate and fulfilling and has so much love.
It makes sense to me that the words of love in Song of Songs use the love between two people as the example from which to learn. That our ideal relationship with God can be likened to and understood as the ideal relationship between two people.

So many people use God as vengeance. Not that there aren’t a bazillion examples to site…but to me, God is love. And if I love God and God loves me then I can use that concept of love to make my love for YBW even more fulfilling.
YBW is my beloved.
Why?
Because I know how to love him and be loved by him.
How?
Because I have faith. Because I trust.
I wouldn’t know how to do that if the love of God wasn’t in me.

I’m extremely private about my relationship with God. I don’t talk about it much. It’s complicated and we’ve had our ups and downs. And for a little while I turned my back on it.
But what I do know is that there is love in me.

Categories: love, wedding | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

observe. accept. love.

Some you may know of the app facebook has that shares memories. It’s called “On This Day” and it shows things you’ve posted on that day in previous years.
I don’t check this all the days, I just happened to do it this morning because of something someone else posted that involved me.

Here’s a post from this day two years ago:
dancing girl at great falls
While we were at Great Falls today, I saw this little girl jumping from rock to rock singing, “I am awesome!” (The tune was precious.) Her mom just watched…she didn’t say anything and the little girl didn’t do anything but jump and sing about how awesome she is.
This is why we shouldn’t be saying, “Good job!” Or sometimes not even, “You did it!”
She didn’t need anything from anybody. She knows intrinsically that she is enough…I want to be this little girl please.

Seeing this post stimulated the memory of how moved I was in the moment watching this little girl. She didn’t need anything from anyone. Her mother stood nearby watching, but said nothing. Not “that’s not safe”. Not “way to go”. She said nothing. She observed. She accepted.

My years of early childhood training have given me a different way of looking at the world. At children in the world. The need to have freedom to take risks. They learn through play. They learn through risk taking. They don’t need to be praised every forty-seven seconds. They don’t need a trophy for participating.
They need to feel safe. Safe to explore. Safe to try. Safe to play. Safe to learn. Safe to experience that all-important “I did it!” moment of accomplishment.
It’s obvious to me that this little girl felt safe.
It’s obvious to me that her mother felt safe.
She let that child (who was not yet school-age) take risks by jumping on those rocks. Her mother knew she could fall and get hurt. And that wouldn’t have been fun for anybody, but the little girl would have learned from that. She would have known how to have sturdier feet the next time. She would have jumped more solidly.
That little girl’s mother said nothing while she sang and jumped from rock to rock and back again. But even more interesting to me is that the child never said, “Watch me!” She was completely focused on her task, jumping from rock to rock and singing: I am awesome! It didn’t matter to her if her mom was watching. It didn’t matter to her that she was or was not praised. She was working hard and she was having a blast doing it!

“Watch me, Miss Robynbird!” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that from a child in the last two years.
I cringe every single time one of them says it.
I have said: You can do it. You don’t need me to watch you.
At first they didn’t understand, I could see the deflation happen in their little bodies. But over time, they began to understand that I trusted them and I made the environment safe enough that they could try anything. They began to ask their peers to watch, this created opportunities to build their cooperation skills. Created opportunities for them to mentor each other.
I feel good about that.
I’ve said: You did it! more times than I should have. But never will you hear me say: Good job! I might say: Well done you! Give me five.

YBW and I had a conversation about praise. He believes everyone wants to hear it. I couldn’t agree more. But my point to him was praise causes people to look outside themselves for validation. They’re not motivated my curiosity or desire to try/play/learn. They’re motivated by and for someone else.
Of course we all want an “attagirl” once in a while. Working hard and not getting recognized sometimes feels icky. But praise is a double edged sword. The other side of praise is criticism. I grew up with enough criticism for three kids and precious little praise. In all honesty, I’d trade praise and it’s ugly twin to feel safe enough to try without anyone’s opinion.
When I work hard and finish a job well done I feel that sense of accomplishment. I experience my own “I did it!” moment.
Would it be nice to hear praise?
Absolutely!
Do I need that praise?
Not really.

We’ve created a new generation of kids that thrive on praise. That are motivated by praise, by participation trophies. That graduate from high school only so the principal has numbers that grow.
What if we took a giant step back and took a page from the mom’s book?
What if we observe?
What if we accept?
What if we love?

I want to be that little girl. I want to be enough for myself like she is.
I want that for all of us.

Categories: education, love, me, on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

a bit of pants peeing weirdness

Well, I did it!
I ordered my wedding dress today!
I’m torn between “pants peeing excited” and a bit of weirdness I can’t seem to shake.

The excitement makes sense. It’s the last big purchase I needed to make just for me. I’ve made initial payments to both the venue and photographer and split the first payment to the caterer with YBW. But those were for “the wedding”…well the photographer was mostly for me, but I know he’s going to thank me in the long run.
I’ve ordered dresses for the girls, and as you know, our shoes are already here. So apart from something to wear in my hair, which I think I’ve finally decided upon, my dress is the last “just for me” thing to buy.

The weird feeling is…I don’t know…just weird I guess. I clicked that button and felt like it’s done now. Ordered that dress and it’s a done deal.
Not in a bad way.
I guess it just feels weird.
I’m not sure how to explain it…I think it’s just that I didn’t try it on, I’m going on photos and reviews and emailed conversations. I’m taking a shopping leap of faith with one of the most important articles of clothing I’ll ever wear.
But the reviews are all positive. The emailed conversations have been quite successful. The moment I saw this dress I knew it was the one. I’d been looking for the longest time for exactly this dress. Etsy is truly an amazing place.

So I trust. (Not my strongest skill.)
I accept the weird. (This one I’m pretty good at.)
I (metaphorically) pee my pants in excitement.
I wait (impatiently) for my ivory lace fabulousness to arrive.

dress

Categories: me, wedding | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

What “should” it be?

I’m going to have to swear off social media for a few days.
I keep seeing my friends with children the same age as Thing 2, children the same age as Thing 2 I’m “friends” with posting about graduation and it’s breaking my heart.
I’m excited and proud for my friends who share their pride and joy about this important milestone. I’m excited for these kids who count down the moments until they’re “free”. (Just stay in high school a bit longer, y’all, the real world can sometimes suck balls.)

I should be doing the same kind of sharing. I should be expressing my pride and joy that Thing 2 is graduating from high school. She should be sharing this roller coaster ride that her peers are on.
Should.
Should is a real bitch of a word. It’s mean and hateful.

I trusted Thing 2 enough to make the choice to get her high school equivalent. She trusted that choice. She appears to have no regrets. I trust that, too.

Graduation isn’t for the graduate.
Graduation is for the parents.

Graduation is for this particular Mommy.

The day Thing 1 graduated was of profound importance to me. I have never been more moved in my adult life as I was that day. To watch my baby take that ceremonial walk was more powerful than I can put into words.
Since that day, I’ve waited to experience similar feelings for Thing 2. My disappointment is bigger than I realized.
I’m not disappointed in her.
I’m disappointed to miss out on that moment with and for her, those feelings about her.

I believe witnessing your child’s graduation is a rite of passage for a parent in way a child can never understand the importance of. A sense of closure as well as a new beginning.
I’m wondering how I’ll experience that with Thing 2. What will that look like? Because it won’t look like a blue cap and gown at Colonial Life Arena in a few days time.

Perhaps it will surprise me when I least expect it.
But that frightens me! If it happens when I least expect it, how will I know the weight and magnitude? How will I know it if I’m not expecting it?
What does a rite of passage look like if it’s unexpected?

I can’t answer these questions.
I can only love my girl like I always have. I’m going to keep trusting her choices. I’m going to trust that we’ll experience our own particular rite of passage and it will fill me with equal amounts of awe and pride and never-ending unconditional love.

I celebrate with my friends in theory…somewhere in my deep in heart. I just can’t do it with photos and memories and hashtags and the like. It’s too painful.
Is that selfish? Or petty? Or simple self-preservation?
Dunno. Don’t care.
Just know I can’t look at other people’s babies in caps and gowns right now.

Thing 2 sometimes reads my words…so these are specifically for her:
You’re savvy enough to know this isn’t about you so I hope it isn’t hurtful for you to read. Your choices are yours to make. I support your right to make choices. I have faith in your ability to make mostly good ones. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, and I love you more than the moon and the stars.

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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