I spent the weekend with my son. He was such a joy to be with. I love to watch him be. I am so proud of him and myself. I have done many great things in my life. I am most proud of my parenting. It’s taken so much yoga. There is nothing more humbling than to look at his face and feel his sadness, his fear or his pain. I remember the few times he was sick, I was broken. I tried to carpet the world for him and realized quickly that was not available. I had to adapt quickly and learn to arm him with the tools necessary to get up when he fell. He was easy to learn. He was malleable. He is a team player. And my son is so damn funny.
We played like children all weekend. Throughout the weekend he acted his age (which I love) and acted like my protector (which I need).
I have a limited amount of time with my boy before he goes onto make his own journey. I am dedicated to suck the life out of our time together. I see so much of me in him. He is very different than both his parents too. It’s fascinating.
I forgot about the traditions of Mother’s Day and did whatever made us happy and it turned out to be the best Mother’s Day of my life. I have had seventeen of them and before that my ex-husband would honor me as a step parent.
There are many women around me pregnant or giving birth presently. It is beautiful. I listen to them intently and smile quietly. I remember me in their shoes. Dreaming, planning, and fearing the human life coming soon.
I am very lucky and privileged to be a mother. I thank God every day. My labor pains came on a rainy night while I was watching a movie (shocker). I am always watching a movie.