My Song

If you write a post sharing how you struggle to use a calm, sensible voice with your children, go ahead and plan for a few days of brutal testing.

Hitting publish on that post seemed to spark a domino effect in our days. One angry moment turned into another and my kids were relentless.  Every time I thought I had regained momentum in what I wanted to be a perfectly fun week, a new catastrophe barreled through the door.

And by catastrophe I clearly mean life altering things like kids slamming doors, fighting over one of the 20 footballs we own, and markers left on the floor. All things sure to make my blood boil. Put them all in the same 6 hours and toss in a husband working never ending days and you have the perfect storm.

I'm not proud to admit it but, y'all, I threw a few fits last week. 

Door slamming, fists clenched, eyebrows furrowed. All in the 12 hours before I was taking Josie on a special mother daughter trip to help us having some bonding time.

Not exactly the start I was hoping for.

I shut their bedroom doors that night feeling defeated. Like the day had been a test and I had failed in the worst way.

After tucking myself into my bed with a rather large bowl of ice cream I pleaded with God to help me to do better.  To show me how to take those moments that are going the opposite of what I had planned and find ways to adjust our sails and get us back on course.

And I had the sudden thought that my life was like a song.

The beat and tempo will rise and fall.  There will be moments of quiet and moments of excitement.  And at the end of it all, the song I create will be the soundtrack of my kids childhoods.  I want it to be a play list that they want to hear on repeat.  That will fill them with peace on the rough days and comfort when they need it most.  I want them to dance to the tune that I'm creating.  I want it to guide them home, to me.

I hold the conductor's baton and have the ability to change our tune at any given time.

I tested out my musical theory this past weekend while I was on a Girls Only trip with Josie.

I've been living the Mother Daughter Relationship with my own Mother for my whole life, but it wasn't until Josie began to express her own thoughts, plans, and desires to wear plaid shirts with sparkle skirts and rain boots that I began to see how hard it is to navigate.

I love my girl with a fierce and protective love.  I would walk on hot coals, share my last Thin Mint, and forgo my hair appointments forever if she needed me to.  But that girl?  She knows how to push my buttons.  She can set me on fire and hurt my feelings like no other human on Earth.  I walk the fine line of wanting to be her best friend and wanting to actually raise her to be a productive member or society.

And sometimes I fail.  

I've hurt her feelings.  Commented when comments were unnecessary.  I've been petty and prideful and allowed emotion to get the best of me.  And y'all, she's only six.

But I look at my relationship with my own mother and know that finding a way to make sure Josie knows that I'm her biggest fan and supporting everything, including the questionable fashion choices, is important.  Loving her through her mistakes instead of berating her and giving her my time and full attention matters.

My Mom is easily my best friend on Earth.

She knows me like no one else.  She's seen my worst, my ugliest.  Heck, she lived it right along with me.  She knows my dreams and all my personality quirks.  And through it all, her song has sung me home.

And I want that for my kids.

I get one shot with these two humans.  And I want my song to be worth listening to.

*Josie and I had the greatest weekend together.  Even if she did refer to me as "Ralph's Fourth Favorite."  Give you one guess who took first place.  We** made snowmen at night, swam inside, went to the American Girl Cafe with friends, watched fresh snow fall, and did a whole lot of hand holding.

**Aaron did all the snowman building while Josie stomped in snow and Nora and I froze.