thirty days with a grateful heart. day seventeen.

day seventeen.  out of the mouth of babes.

There are days when I, like most parents, think my littles have to have been abducted by aliens, their actions so contrary to what I know I have spent their lifetimes trying to teach them. 

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out, I get so incredibly frustrated, wondering why, oh why do they not understand?  Why do they not see?

And just when I think I must be at the very end of my rope with them, they do something that surprises me.  That encourages me.  That gives me... hope that they will be the compassionate and loving adults I have taught them to be.

It is on days like that, on days like Christmas, when for the first time ever, my littles gave me a gift that they not only sought out, but purchased and wrapped all on their own.  And when that gift is opened, it reveals the truth.  That what I have been hoping and praying for, for them, for so many years, has become reality.

They see. 

But not only do they see, they also get... me.  Which, in my humble opinion, is more than any parent could ever hope for, don't you agree?

I am...
capable
acceptable
forgivable
valuable
lovable

I am... enough.

So grateful for their lesson today, my friends.  Merry Christmas.

xoxo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart. day thirteen.

day thirteen.  the thinker.

Little J is my thinker. 

With a worldview that tends toward the black and white. 

And as much as I would like to believe that he is just like me, that the apple doesn't fall far from the proverbial tree, in this respect, we differ a bit.

But when we disagree, when the possibility looms that the differences between us could begin to create a wedge, that is when I do what I must do, as his mother, and... step back.

Take a deep breath, and listen.  Validate, and respect.

And simply assure him that no matter what he says, no matter how it hurts, no matter how we may disagree, no matter what - that I love him, that I am ever grateful for him, that his place, in my heart, is safe. 

And maybe, in the end, that is all he really needs to know.

xoxo,
momo

three hundred words a day. july 14.

Every morning in July, I wake, head downstairs, turn on the coffee and tv and settle in to watch the Tour de France.  Over the past years, anyone who visits that rises as early as I do, is subjected to watching with me.  Many are friends who aren't familiar at all with cycling, and I get the chance to teach them about something I love.

Little J knows much about cycling, but generally, he is not one of the people spending time with me at six am.  Like most teenage boys, Little J loves to sleep and there is something about the beach and the cool air and the dark of his bedroom here that has him sleeping like there is no tomorrow.

Until this morning.  No, this morning, as I headed downstairs, Little J was right beside me. 

Aren't you still tired?

No, I'm all good.

So, we turned on the Tour.  We talked cycling a bit.  He lit the fire for me and got me a throw.  He explained to me how the retina in your eye works and had me laughing about some one thing or another.

Oh, how I love this child.

The time I have with him is short now.  I've said it for awhile, but suddenly, it is here.  He's a senior and with all the preparations, the school year will fly in a haze of busyness.  Before I am ready, graduation will be upon us and he will take his first steps into adulthood.   As it is, he has become so independent already, it is almost scary.

I need to be still in these moments, with him.  To listen. To watch.  To appreciate them to their fullest, so that I can recall them at times when I am missing him the very most.