As I sit in the chaos of my 3.5 year old & my 12 month old daughters, it is hard to want more than survival. But at night, when my mind is turning over and over I think about much more.
The new reason for my sleepness nights is my grown daughters childhood memories. Yes I sound insane, but hear me out.
It all started when I decied to make myself a family recipe book for Christmas. I was thinking about my childhood, trying to remember special dinners. I remember the fast food and pizzas more than any other meals. Did we eat badly, or do I only remember what I liked as a child?
Then it hit me. What will they remember? What will they think of me? I was panicing. I would yell at my toddler,”DON’T HIT THE BABY!” Then I’d appologize. I don’t want her to look back on me and think mean. I asked my husband what he hoped they’d remember. “I just hope they don’t hate me.” I couldn’t settle for that.
So to my daughters, I hope you think more than, “Mama tried.” I hope you remember Mama cooked pinterest worthy dinners three, okay, once a week. Mama strived for greatness and some how ended covered in spit up, poop, in pajamas at 2P.M. Mama wanted nothing but the best for you but frankly failed to give it to you. I set up hundreds of crafts that never got finished because of sickness, chaos, or exhaustion.
When you are adults, I hope you understand. I hope you still want to call me every day, better yet see me. I hope you appreciate it all. I hope you know how much I love you & I hope your childhood memories reflect that.