I was on Pinterest the other day looking for inspiration. Inspiration for what? I don't know. But I ended up on home decor boards and began looking through design blogs for hours. I began mentally cataloguing all the ways my home falls short compared to homes more impeccable than magazine photos I have collecting dust in mine.
My home is NOT organized. There are stacks of paper everywhere. Bills to be paid. Dirty socks strewn about. And you don't even want to look in my kitchen cabinets--scary I tell ya. I started bumming harder the longer I looked through Pinterest projects I knew I would likely never finish. I looked around and saw all the chaos in my home and made a mental list on what I would tackle by spring.
I was mentally going through them all as I waited on the bus to pull up. A smile came over me as I saw the lights flashing yellow, then red. My son was closer to me, and giving him a huge hug after school is ALWAYS one of the best parts of my day. He walked slowly towards me, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. My heart sunk. I knew he had a bad day, and it made my Pinterest moping seem so stupid.
Here's the thing about motherhood: it's so tough to send your child out into the world sometimes. There is so much joy, love, excitement, and wonder to life. But there's also a toughness to it as well. People aren't always good to us, sometimes the test was harder than we thought, and sometimes we make fools of ourselves. Watching your child hurt is so much worse than any pain you could possibly feel yourself. I just wish he could have nothing but good days every day.
As he walked towards me, that pain became tangible. I could feel it. And I hurt for him so badly. We chatted, and it was some frustration he was having with a child who was not so nice to any of the other children.
When you're a parent, one of the hardest things to master is when NOT TO PARENT. A large part of you wants go down to that school and parent someone else's child. But in these moments, you have to step back and just listen to yours. Because one day you won't be there. One day they'll be working with a difficult coworker and they'll have to be able to cope without you. All you can do is squeeze 'em, tell 'em how much you love 'em, ask 'em right questions, and let your child figure out what to do. So much easier said than done! Your mind races through all the things you could be doing, should be doing, and it questions what you are doing, and what you're not doing.
When we wrapped our conversation, I was sitting there wondering if what I did was any help at all. That's when he stopped and said "I love coming home. Home makes me feel better."
And let me tell ya. I choked back tears. That is what matters to my child--not which flooring we have. That is what home should be. It doesn't matter how Pinteresty things are. I only matters that home is safe and comforting for my family and anyone else that enters. This is my commitment from here on out: all who enter my home it a place of refuge.