Both of my children are amazingly special. Each to his own, walks his own way, talks his own way, and can even have fun in his own little way. I look at them and realize nothing is quite like being a mom.
It was a job I have always admittedly not been ready for. A job I know I do not do perfect. Motherhood is a job I know I was meant to do because these 2 boys have been given to me. It is a job. I teach. I try to do my best. It was a job I started at 20.
For now, my kids have a job. Their job is to be a child. I often wonder what they will be when they grow up. We talk about the future often, though we do not rush it. I wonder if they will still walk in their own way, and talk in their own way. I hope they will still have fun in their own little ways uninfluenced by who tells them that their way is wrong. Then I think about me and how much I will miss them when they grow up. I am sad.
Until, I look at their father and realize that when they grow up it will be our time. Just us. The days premom and predad. This is when he will be all mine. I imagine us walking, talking, and playing in “our” own little way without them. It is then that I smile and realize growing up isn’t such a bad thing after all.
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This post reads like a poem. So beautifully written. What a great welcome-back post.