This weekend was hard.
All of it.
Every breath was ragged.
The rain only amplified our frustrations with ourselves and one another.
Every action I took was a Mommy Fail.
I began the weekend in tears and cried until I laughed.
Most of the time, all you see and hear about is their smiling faces.
You're not silly enough to believe that's all there is to them,
To be in control means to understand the outcome;
and friends, I am NOT in control of anything.
As I battled The Dinosaur's temper
and my own insecurities.
The sharp sword of my tongue guarded my heart.
After round after round of being on my toes,
deflecting the stinging wounds of his words,
and fighting back the tears.
I wanted to give in.
Throw in my sword and run away from home.
And in the way only He can, His spirit whispered
"because they fight you like you fight against me.
I love you.
I care what happens to you
and what kind of person you become."
The realization cut me close to the heart.
I'm not done growing.
I may never be.
Wow! That's good stuff.
Why didn't He whisper that on Saturday morning, instead of Sunday night?
Maybe He did.
I was too busy battling.
As we finished up our nightly routine,
The Dinosaur finished his bath
and The Hero brought him to get clothes.
He snuggled in his towel and whispered
"Mommy, I'm cold."
I wrapped him in a blanket and asked if he was ready for jammies.
"No Mommy. Rock me."
In 13 months, he's never asked.
Our love depended on it.
Fifteen minutes and he was asleep.
Peacefully snoring on my chest.
Our arms were both too full of love.
We couldn't even have held a sword.
Our hands were too busy holding all the love.