I am the mother of 2 boys.
I remember when the youngest was born and people said to me “two the same”.
Nah. Not even close.
These boys are very different from each other. But not different from me.
I see so much of myself in both of them.
The youngest is wacky, zany and silly. He thinks way outside the square.
He has my oddness.
But my eldest son has my sensitivity and my need to please.
At school he is the happy kid that everyone wants to play with and the teachers love.
And then he comes home and crashes because it’s hard to be happy all day.
Last night we were having a chat at bedtime and he gave me a cuddle and I asked if he was okay.
He shook his head. Are you sick? No. Is something wrong? No. Are you sad? Yes.
He was sad and didn’t know why.
I told him it was okay to just have a cry sometime and he started to sob.
He cried for about 5 minutes and then he stopped and just started talking about normal stuff.
And of course it broke my heart. The sadness in him.
Maybe he was just over tired but he needed permission to cry.
It wasn’t all that long ago when I didn’t like myself that much that I didn’t really like my kids either.
I loved them and would do anything for them but I didn’t really like them.
And now I do. So much.
I admit a major bias when I say that they are amazing and fill my heart to overflowing every day.
I miss them now when we’re apart.
I still like being apart though.
These people I had a fairly significant part in creating are wonderful.
I love them and I love seeing myself in them.
I hope they keep loving themselves too.