Remember last year?
I was this year too, but for different reasons.
Except, change that to week.
But that’s a different post.
Last night, I was frantically searching stores for a new backpack (procrastination much?), and there was only one backpack left. Tinkerbell. Not princess. Not the one you wanted. Not the one you had been asking for since your birthday.
I drove home at 10pm, mentally berating myself for not shopping earlier, for not preparing a special breakfast, extra special snack, nor having actually read everything you needed to turn in on the first day. I spent more time last night finishing up Creighton stuff than preparing you for school the next day, and I’m pretty sure I yelled at you before you went to bed, threatening something ridiculous like, “If you ask about your backpack one more time, you don’t get a backpack!” (because that’s a punishment I can follow through on…not).
After returning with your backpack, I fell into bed, spent about 30 seconds thinking about all the first day of school cuteness I saw on Pinterest and facebook, and went to sleep feeling like the worst mother on the planet (and angry at your Daddy, because I was a hot mess… I make sense like that).
This morning, I woke up early, said a loving goodbye to your dad before he made the trek up to Tacoma (because sleep cures passive-agressiveness), and thought about you. How you’ve grown and changed so much in the last year.
You woke up and asked with giant, innocent eyes, “Where’s my backpack Mommy?”. You ran to the couch to pick it up with reverent, soft hands, and before I could even start to apologize that it wasn’t pink or princess-y, you leapt from the couch to tackle me with a giant hug, “Thank you Mommy! Thank you so much! I love it! I love you!”
And I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. Tension, I hadn’t noticed, released from my shoulders. That’s the power of love. The power of forgiveness. Especially forgiveness freely given.
I didn’t know it, and you certainly couldn’t have, but I needed your love, your forgiveness at that moment.
My insecurities about being a mom bubble right up to the surface when life gets crazy. It’s easy to forget that more than pancakes, more than princesses, more than preschool… you love me.
Thanks for the reminder, Love Bug.
I love you too.