There are so many things that come from aging. Acknowledging the fact that when hot young guys walk in the room, they most likely aren't sharing the same blushed cheeks for you. That resilient skin no longer bounces back in place leaving you with that fresh looking face once more. Your teeth yellow so much easier and you have more embarrassing crap happen to you than you care to mention.
But there are so much grander gifts that come with age. Your understanding of life, faith, and love. I turned 33 last week. It was a hugely great day full of love and attention from so many that I love and adore. Nothing puffs your chest out more than hearing things like... One of my favorite people on earth or having such a loving soul. Words of so much love and I'm so glad to know that the love I feel is felt in return.
But that night something happened that I just haven't had the heart to be so open about up to this point. I have 3 bits of pride that walk around this earth and I want nothing more than to raise responsible, caring, respectable boys. That would make me feel successful as a mother. So, when I feel as if that could possibly not go as well as expected I feel a sense of failure.
I cried hard that night. The last time I remember crying like that over my babies was in the car after a doctors appointment in which the doctor told me our repeated efforts to have a baby after our miscarriage had failed once more. I was scared, hurt, and felt failure.
Wyatt has been having a hard time with his attitude and actually got in trouble at school. He was acting out in such a hateful way. On my birthday he was especially bad at home and I was doing all I could to keep my composure and keep the love flowing all day. Until I just couldn't take anymore. He had dug deep to find buttons I never wanted pushed. I had had it.
He told me so hatefully that he hated me for the last time and I was done. I would not talk to him again until he changed his ways. I was as serious as I could be and he knew it. I WAS done and I turned the corner of parenting that I never wanted to turn. I turned my back on him and put a wall up. I couldn't believe he was only 6 and I was going there.
I came back to the living room as he sobbed and begged for me. I cried as I typed out an email to a dear friend whom I respect so much as a mom and a friend. I talked to Dale and my sister as well. I was broken and hurting and so was he. I feared that this acting out was a huge turning point in who he was becoming and I feared I would screw it up. That this moment in our lives was huge and set sails in one direction or another.
He continued to sob in his room alone and hurting. I sat there trying to decide on holding my ground or holding my hurting baby. I had a flashback to my own childhood. I remembered that cry and that hurt and I remember exactly what I wanted out of it all. Love.
I turned the corner and gently walked down the hall to his room and I held him without a word. It's all he wanted and we held each other through his big heavy tears and breaths until he said to me, "I didn't mean to ruin your day. I'm so sorry I made your day a bad day." I rubbed his head and traced his cheek, "WE'LL try harder tomorrow. I love you... Always."
It's only been 5 days since this has happened but I have seen my Wyatt come back. My sweet, loving Wyatt. As hard as this parenting gig is to figure out from one day to the next, I got a priceless birthday gift on my 33rd birthday... To ALWAYS choose love.