To My Firstborn- You're 4! 21 April 2021
To all my perfectionists out there--you know when you get a new notebook, you’re so careful to make sure that each word written is in your very best handwriting. You use the nicest gel pens, find the cutest stickers, and promise you will keep this up for all of its pages.
Then, it happens. Your pen runs out of ink and you can’t find the same color. You get lazier and your handwriting gets sloppier. In haste, you rip out the pages, so you can start over “fresh.”
This is exactly what parenting is... except you can’t rip out the pages. All of the mistakes, the good intentions but failed attempts are permanently there. There’s no ripping out the pages you don’t like. There’s no starting over. You can choose to ruminate, constantly looking back and reminding yourself how ugly those pages are, or you can accept that things aren't as perfect as you initially wanted, but your notebook is still pretty amazing.
Now Adrian, I could sit here and write about all of the wonderful things we’ve gotten to experience together because honestly, in my mind, they’re infinite.
But I know only writing about the good times would be disingenuous. It wasn't those sweet moments that have grown me as a parent most. It was the really hard, trying, and heartbreaking moments that did.
In your first year of life, I battled with my new identity as a stay-at-home mama. My ego was so used to having a “real job," struggling with not looking down in shame when a stranger asked what I did.
Thankfully, I know better now.
I know that no job title I’ve had or will ever have will compare in importance to being a mother to you and your brother. Nothing!!
In your second year of life, I feared going to grocery stores...any where in public, really. The likelihood that you would have a tantrum was high and I didn’t think I could stand the embarrassment.
Thankfully, I know better now.
I’m content with my growth in realizing that your tantrums do not equate to my worth as a mom but how I respond to them do. Also, side note-- most adults (including myself) still throw tantrums and we have years on you, kid.
In your third year of life, you became a big brother and had no problem sharing the limelight with this brand new mini-human that was taking up most of my time. You started talking more... and I lost my cool... a lot more. I feel like this was the year that I screamed at you out of pure frustration or anger...often. I hate thinking about it, but I’m so grateful for your grace. I’d apologize and your response was always-- “It’s okay, Mommy.”
Thankfully, I know better now.
I’m so grateful for the growth I’ve experienced with patience and understanding. I’m so grateful that I honestly can’t remember the last time that I yelled or screamed at you. I’m also grateful that if, well when, it happens again, I’ll be able to show myself the grace that God shows both of us.
Now, you’re 4!
This year of life will be the best yet. You are an eclectic dancer, thinks adding "poop" or "pee" to the end of anything is hilarious, do a great job of dealing with your impulsive baby brother, and love all things dinosaurs, mud, and sugar. Thanks for being the imperfect kid I've needed in this life. You're one of the most amazing people I know and I love you, kookie (poop)!
