We butt heads all. the. time. Cabin Girl and I. She is her mother’s daughter, with her Aunt’s Leo tenacity, and her daddy’s smarts and penchant for whining. It is a struggle, daily, to get her to eat the breakfast she requested. An hour to eat a piece of toast and a bowl of yogurt? I just don’t understand. Moving through her morning routine so slowly that I’ve had to start waking her up earlier and earlier just to get her out the door on time.
I help where I can… but between taking care of The Kraken and making sure the boys are fed and not destroying anything, I rarely have the chance. This oldest girl of mine, who I had hoped wouldn’t be forced to grow up quicker than necessary.
I see her off to school, every morning. Walk her to the end of the driveway and watch her trudge the 2 blocks to the corner where she’ll turn towards her school, crossing guards, school buses and friends.
Something about the past few days has me seeing with super clarity right now. The importance of focusing on these children, these moments that seem too hectic, so chaotic, yet inherently mundane.
Maybe it’s because Captain, The Kraken and I are leaving this afternoon, for the weekend. Maybe it’s because I know I haven’t been 100% present lately. Maybe it’s because I’m finally past the uphill struggle of getting this PPD behind me. But something inside told me to watch her. Really watch her walk away this morning. In her purple skull leggings, under her fuzzy boots and a striped kerchief skirt. Her Mike Wazowski backpack fitting her just right, no longer over-sized, hitting the back of her knees as she half-heartedly bounced her way through the wind. Leaves scattering everywhere, swirling around her feet before fluttering on their whirlwind course.
I’m glad I held her hand, hugged her tight, kissed her twice, and hugged her again before sending her on her way. I’m glad I waited to see her turn around for one last wave before she rounded the corner.
I know I haven’t been the best, or the nicest, mom lately. I have a lot to work on still. Again. It will be a war, kicking my frustrations and impatience to the curb. There will be days when I lose battles, and have to retreat from skirmishes. But it will be a war worth fighting for.
Because this girl, these children, deserve an intentional and consistent love, not a sporadic, implied one.