Friday, February 13, 2015

Dear Max...Things you Should Know About Your Mom (part 1)

Dear Max,

You look at me with those sparkling eyes and sometimes I don't have answers for you.  I don't understand why people can be mean.  And, when it happens to you, it makes me want to cry for your hurt and have words with whomever caused you pain.  Sometimes you'll chase an older kid around who, simply, does not want to play with you.  Later you'll tell me that it makes your heart sad.  And I'll tell you that you're wonderful.  That I will always play ball with you.  That you have a million great qualities that I want the world to see and know about you. I'll tuck you in bed, kiss your cheek, and then cry alone for your hurt heart. And sadly, your heart will hurt another day for another reason.  

I worry about the world.  I worry about this place where practicing kind acts randomly is considered a big deal instead of the norm.  Max, it is important that you do your best to always be kind.  It requires a little more work but the blessings that come and the light in the dark that guides your heart is worth the effort.  


I worry that one day you'll come across someone who will tell you that it isn't OK to like princesses and Tinkerbell because you're a boy.  It is TOTALLY OK to like princesses and Tinkerbell.  They are brave and funny and smart.  And they make mistakes.  And they learn lessons.  They're great friends and they sometimes take unpopular positions because it's the right thing to do.  These are fantastic qualities in a hero...male or female.  They're great qualities to keep in your heart.  They're qualities I want you to have as a man.  (However, they have set you up for a lifetime of unrealistic hair expectations.) 

I worry that you don't know that when I am upset with something you did or you're standing in a corner being punished, that you don't understand it's because I love you.  My job, my soul purpose for breathing and being on this planet is to be your mom.  Being your mom means keeping you safe and raising you to be a decent adult. And the enormous amount  of pressure that comes along with that responsibility sometimes leaves me without breath.  And when you're standing in that corner for the two minutes that seems like a lifetime to you, I am struggling to fight my own tears and find words to make your heart understand mine.  And sometimes I won't get them right.  And sometimes you'll think I'm too strict.  And that's OK, too.

Because there is so much light in the worry.  There is you.  There is that hair that I pay to have cut every month that you shove under a baseball hat whenever possible.  There is the quiet you so desperately enjoy.  There is a boundless and colorful imagination that I see in the "shows" you put on for your stuffed animals.  There are the stories you tell me when you wake up from naps about pirates and fairies.  Every piece of paper you find is a "treasure map, mommy!"  and every out-of-place pebble, shell and feather becomes something to be collected and put in your treasure box.  The big dreams that you dream are fantastic and amazing and you should always dream them.  

And there are those two big brown eyes that look up at me longing for all of the answers the universe holds.  And all I can muster is "I love you.  So much."  But the funny thing is, I think that IS the answer.  To everything.  The dark and the light.  All of it.    

I love you.  Completely.  As you are.
Mommy