Hello everyone, I hope all is well with you. I’m back today after a week of work and writing. More work than writing, but that’s how it goes sometimes. My youngest graduates this week. My last one. So, this year is a year of lasts. I got my last hug on his last day of school. I haven’t cried yet. Instead, I worry. Did I give him enough attention when he needed it? Did I give him enough advice?
Photo credit: Thomas Hawk on VisualHunt
I worry about this because I was a frazzled mom with two kids in diapers. My oldest didn’t want to quite relinquish control of his mom when my youngest came along, so everything I did was in relation to taking care of two little guys. There was the pull of making sure my oldest still felt loved while making sure my youngest’s needs were met. I have glaring memories where I didn’t quite make it, and it breaks my heart. But there are no do-overs in parenting. So, I have to carry this heartbreak with me into my golden years. I’ve apologized to my youngest and like the sensitive warrior that he is, he tells me that “it’s okay.” He forgives me.
These mistakes are more vivid than my successes. Maybe because I use them to beat myself up. I don’t let myself forget them. I should. Maybe I should forgive myself just like my youngest forgives me. Don’t get me wrong, I made mistakes with my oldest, too, but my youngest is so smart and sensitive, that I’m afraid my mistakes have made a lasting impression on him. I want them both to have a zest for life and confidence in themselves. I know, all parents want this for their kids.
My youngest is a quiet warrior. Sometimes I have to draw him out. I ask a lot of questions, and that bugs him occassionally, but it’s only because I love him that I ask. I want him and his brother to be happy.
I hope I’ve prepared them for life. I hope they find the resilience they need as they navigate through tough decisions. I hope. I hope. I hope. Now, all I can do is be there, supporting both of them. They’re going to make it. I know this. I hope they know it, too.
This wasn’t the post I planned to write tonight. I planned to write one on the question that has been posed to many women. “If you were alone in the woods, would you rather meet a bear or a man.” I’ll save that post for another day. It’s an important one, too.
Thanks for reading my rambling thoughts. How about you? Do you remember your parenting mistakes more vividly than the times you did it right? Leave a comment! I’d love to hear from you.
