I'm not perfect.
And I know that doesn't come as one bit of a surprise.
That it isn't any big secret I've been messing up a few things up since I brought you into this world.
From not knowing how to change your diaper correctly to avoid leaks to not changing it often enough to prevent any sort of rash down there.
From being entirely unsure what each and every cry of yours meant to being hellbent out of shape and beside myself concerned that something or anything that I was doing, or not doing or doing wrong, was causing those heartbreaking wails of yours.
From questioning my every decision when it came to
having you cry it out [or not],
letting you sleep in my bed [or not],
feeding you formula [or not]
to the decisions I have to make now like
having you mask up [or not]
letting you ride your bike to your friend's house [or not]
or allowing you the space to learn on your own what is 'right' for you to do [or not].
I often get punted these calls and freak the fudge out when I have to answer them.
I take the balls thrown at me and fumble, never losing humble possession of you and that incredible heart of yours but losing sight of what matters, what the right responses, choices, and behaviors are from me as your example-setting parent,
and I miss quite a bunch of the opportunities I have to
connect with you,
and prove to you that a mother's love
-- a parent's love --
and their support,
it's not something you have to earn,
it's not a reward because you did something right or didn't do anything wrong,
-- forever and always --
Can I tell you something?
Can I tell you this thing and not have you think less of me?
Sometimes I just need room to be wrong.
I need the space to f-up because it's in that space that I learn to be better for you.
I absolutely wish, for you, that I was someone who got more things "right."
what I know I'm getting right,
what I know for absolute certain I'm doing correctly,
in such an honest, albeit imperfect way, that you'll know no other way to live.
And thank God for that, right?
Because the world doesn't need more of, nor will it be made better by, people who demand perfection from situations, each other, God, or themselves.
Perfect Patty and Perfect Patrick can't do anything to improve themselves because they've already done it. They've already made it. They are "it." So they are sure of.
But, Imperfect Ida and Imperfect Ian can spend a whole adventurous lifetime, eternally learning, loving, and living, in pursuit of improvement, not perfection, just improvement.
I want to be like them.
And, so, here's my ask...
give me room to be wrong, time to make it right, and grace and forgiveness when I do.
Because if you do (and let's be honest, even if you don't), you'll always have someone in your corner (and, my goodness, I hope you have many someones in your corner) who give you room to do the same.
And dare I suggest that if you can't find those kinds of people, you just leave that restricting space and head on in the direction of bigger and better things, more authentic and compassionate humans, and self-love encouraging surroundings.
who you are in your whole-person entirety,
is precisely who you are meant and allowed to be
and for me to be allowed to be called your mother,
it's an incredible honor;
one that I'm not doing justice sans mistakes, but one that I'm perfectly imperfectly cut out for.
That I'm sure of…
and I hope you are too.
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