I said earlier that I believe you can love someone to the ends of the earth but at times still kind of want to push them off if you could or heave yourself over the edge.
No matter how my day has gone when gazing at my sleeping children I feel rejuvenated. Awestruck, in love with who they are. I want to kiss their faces and hug their little bodies and wake them accidentally-on-purpose so that I might have a moment to apologize, if only for the things I was keeping to myself all along. To gain a minute more to appreciate them and show them my love when I was instead impatient. To just tell them how amazing they are.
But I realize, I need to forgive myself. Perfection was never my aim, just to give them my best. Which I will continue to aim for.
This applies even to the good days, when I sat and colored for fifteen minutes not thirty then I see a small child sleeping peacefully and I am discontent inside. I could have sat longer, played more, read on. I don't want to feel so dependant on tomorrows for having seen what I missed today.
This stuff... the stuff of life and love and trying so hard.
This has been brought to you by tapping thumbs and a mama snug in bed hoping her cell holds out long enough to post these ramblings.