The end product

The part that surprises me the most about being a mom, is how much I love it.

Growing up, it was not no, HELL no do I want kids.  As the oldest of four with two parents that worked, I felt like I’d already raised my 2.5.  I had nothing against children, I just didn’t want any.  I’d smile and nod (or argue) when folks would tell me, “It’s different when the child is your own.”  I knew I’d make an AWESOME aunt and that was my intention. 

Later in life, I’d made the conscious decision that yes, I would like to be a mom.  I knew it would change my life… me forever.  I had no idea exactly HOW much.

I like how open my heart has become, how my empathy for others has expanded, how conscious I am of the effect of the words, actions, and attitudes I choose. 

The inherent vulnerability of motherhood catches in my chest.  There are things I shouldn’t or can’t control and I’m learning to be ok with that.  It makes me want to tread gently through this life, this world.  Everyone is doing the best they can with what they have… I am learning the meaning of living with grace.

The confidence that comes only through experience and giving unconditional love provides a sureness to my steps that I notice even when I’ve feeling the most vulnerable.  The responsibility in wanting to be an example not a lesson to my son, keeps me pushing boundries, trying new things, drinking deeply from the cup of life.  I must do if I am to teach. 

Little Man is growing up so quickly.  Five is friggin amazing.  It’s easy to get lost in the day in day out minuta of what needs to get done.  Then I hear his full belly laugh, or some quirky thing come out of his mouth, or we have a deliciously full day like today and the full weight of the blessing I’ve been given hits me. I am so grateful that I was loaned my Little Man. 

The end product of child raising is not the child but the parent.  ~Frank Pittman

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