I’m not looking forward to the teen years, when I may become my kid’s version of the Evil Queen. It makes me think differently about the wicked stepmother and the evil fairy godmother. What if the difference between being the hero of the story, and the villain, is just where you stop telling it?
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Laugh with me on the rainy days. Hand me a wipe or a diaper and be understanding when I never finish a sentence. This gig would be awful if it weren’t for mom friends.
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Invitations are special. They mean that you are a priority to the person doing the inviting, and they are your opportunity to let them know that they are important to you- even if you can’t make it or maybe can’t make it. Blowing off an RSVP is like saying you don’t need any help when the zombies come.
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It’s okay to be broken. It’s okay to put yourself back together again the best you can. It’s okay to have scars.
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We know, on a visceral level, that our children are all different. We KNOW it. We see it, we live it… but somehow we can’t stop listening to the people who try to tell us we should parent them all the same.
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Like Princess Leia and her blaster rescuing her supposed saviors, our girls can and will make a mark on this world, and our sons deserve to expect that.
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