I have this Pinterest mom that lives in my head. She’s the one who makes mini rainbow pancakes and punch box advent calendars. She has checklists for everything and a desire to grow and can things. And she’s disappointed in me 90% of the time because she is imaginary and I am entirely too human. I snap at Brady to “oh my god, stop making that NOISE with your MOUTH” (he’s discovered beatboxing, I do not always embrace it). I don’t want to watch that urinary system video with him for the 20,000,000th time, no matter how much he loves it. Sometimes I have a hard time remembering that this child, with his long legs and his huge vocabulary is still only 5. Sometimes I go to bed at the end of day filled with more questions than answers. Am I pushing him too hard academically? Am I too lenient? Should I have let him watch that one last video he begged for? The biggest one though, the one I try to always keep in mind, is ‘How will this affect the man he’ll be some day?’ Some days when I’ve been short with him I hope for the magic of childhood amnesia. Some days all I can do is hope that this won’t be one of the days he remembers clear as a bell.
Today, though, today was one of those days when I found myself looking at him over and over again and just thinking “Please, when you’re grown up and far away. When you’re an old man and I’m long gone please remember me like this.”
Please remember the mother who loved you more than anything.
Please remember ruffled hair and shared smiles and laughter.
Please remember surprise picnics in the back of the van for no reason at all.
Remember how your little hand fits in mine while you’re still too young to be embarrassed by it.
Remember how proud I am of you, how amazed I am by you. Always. Every day.
And, more than anything, remember that love means saying you’re sorry, saying you’ll try again, over and over for as long as you can with everything you have. And when you remember the times I was short with you, or the times I was unfair I hope you’ll forgive my humanity. If nothing else I hope that my imperfections have taught you that we can always start over, that it’s never to late to do better.
I love you more than anything Brady-bug and I will forever try to be worthy of the gift of being your mommy.