I've had a story on my mind for a while now, a story from a year ago that I had decided I'd like to write out and post exactly a year after it happened. Well, I got my dates wrong, and by the time I realized my mistake that one-year mark was past. So I guess it can be a year to the month instead. 🙂
It's kind of a crazy story, about an absurdly hard day I had with my boys, and I couldn't quite decide if I should even share it. I wrote it out and read it to my boys, and at first they were all enthusiastic about me sharing it.
But then they actually heard the story, and they heard what their old selves had done, and those vibrant smiles got a little more sober, and the laughter came a little more haltingly, and at the end when I asked again if they minded if I shared it, they both immediately shouted no.
Alec said, with big, somber eyes, "Word would spread."
Oh, dear boy . . . I am no advocate for sharing dirt on my children, no matter how naughty they can be sometimes.
I reassured the boys that I would make sure people knew that these were things they had done when they were much younger and that I was so glad they didn't do things like that anymore. I told them they had grown up a lot since then and that I would make sure people knew that.
But I also really wanted to share the story because the more I thought about it, the more I thought maybe it could be encouraging to another mother in the same shoes. Not just a "this too shall pass," not just a "been there done that," but an honest "what you're doing is really, really hard, and it doesn't always feel like you're doing it well, and it often feels like it will never end, but it will get easier, and your children will grow in both age and maturity, and there will be different challenges as that happens, but it won't always be this level of unending crazy." ...continue reading