Another year of NaBloPoMo is coming to a close. I am thankful to the amazing woman who came up with the idea, and the thousands of others who participate. There is something to be said for a seed that gets a practice going.
All of my life I have struggled with practices: writing, painting, meditation. I need to be in a group of some kind to really do the hard work. In past years, I have tried to put out a promise that I would write more, or better, or at least more earnestly, for you. Every year I have failed.
It seems that parenting is a collection of daily failures; in voice and in action. My attempts, although often sloppy, are genuine. I am so proud of who you are quickly becoming.
When you were a tiny baby, I told you that being a sensitive person is okay. Crying or exhibiting fear--even when it seems exaggerated or unnecessary--is just fine. I want you to feel good about your emotions, even when they don't match the world's expectations.
You are reading real words now, and working with numbers. Everywhere we go you are sounding out and decoding the written word. You like to count everything and can add up how many errands we have to run, or things we need to pick up at the store.
So my promise to you is not how many times I'll write in a week or a month, but how I will compose and record my thoughts. In the past, I've been hesitant to write down 'real' goings-on. That is, if I'm frustrated with an interaction, I tend to pull away from writing here. I'm going to turn that around and see where it takes me. I want this to be a true record, no matter how sappy or negative I may be feeling at the time.
That being said -- I love you and will always love you no matter what path you choose. Tonight at dinner, you said, "When I grow up, I'm going to have a baby in my belly." I felt a surge of nerves and anxiety fill up my chest because I just can't imagine it. I can't imagine your spot at the table empty. But I can't let the worry of what may be--what will be--overtake me.
Please dear, let me hold your hand a few more years.