Holy moly these little pip squeaks just kill me with cuteness!
I had a thought the other day as I was building a fort with Ava. We had packed up early to head out to go to school to find out that there was none. I was excited to be able to spend the morning with her, but I could tell she was a bit bummed that she wouldn’t be spending those hours with her newfound friends. I wanted to make it extra fun. So here I was building our fort in the living room when I felt myself getting frustrated that the stupid sheet wasn’t staying up. How in the heck do I not know how to build a fort correctly? Then, as I realized she was standing on the other side of the chair trying to help me by holding up the sheet, my heart just about burst into a million little pieces from love.
She was trying to help, and noticed I was having a difficult time. Bless her little heart. We got the fort up (thanks baby girl) and endured in our fun. We read books, we created puzzles, we colored, we told stories and we snuggled with baby brother. As I was laying there with the kids, the thought I mentioned earlier… hit me. How do my kids see me? Am I a big grown up who just demands orders? Am I fun? Am I brave to her and strong? Do I look funny when I try to pretend I’m a goat searching for food making the most awful noise in the world? I’m pretty sure that’s a yes. But really. How do our kids view us? Well, that answer really depends on how we project ourselves to them, right?
I’m a bit of a clean freak, OCD’d, don’t touch my face, clean the dirt off your shoes before you walk in the door type person. Something I’m trying my best to get better at, but something that takes a lot of mental strength to do as well. Pretty bad when I put it that way, but it’s true. So for me, trying to pretend I’m a goat is a hard thing because my imagination just isn’t there. So the days of this mama being a goat are rare. Does that make me boring, and does she view me that way?
Ava has never been afraid to get dirty, and I’m sure that has to do with the zero girls we have in our family. She has a baby brother, I have two nephews, and three bothers, the neighbors are boys, my friends all have boys except for one who lives three and a half hours south. My poor sweet Ava! When she’s looking to show the boys her room, they cringe at the pink walls and dolls everywhere. Her little free spirit is something I’ve always admired about her and been proud of. Something I’m hoping sticks with her forever. Mostly because that’s not WHO I am but something I’m working to be.
I want my kids to look up to me, and respect me as their parent but also know that I’m willing to grab that worm from the ground and let it wiggle in-between my fingers. Even if I’m absolutely cringing on the inside. I want to let my adult appearance go more than often and pretend that I’m not only a goat, but also a really fat hippo. I can already hear Ava’s laughing. That belly laugh she has is so contagious and stinking incredible. I want to be calm, and collected, but stern when the moments are right. It won’t ever be perfect, and I’m sure she will dislike me, along with Nolan, when it’s serious business but that’s about being a parent. I want my kids to view me as not only their mentor but also someone they can honestly feel they trust, and love with all of their heart. You with me?