Thanksgiving

I hate the days that I fall short. Whether I get frustrated too quickly or I am a little on edge, it just doesn't matter, I hate days like this. Why? Because the beautiful little green eyes looking up at me are taking in every little move I make. Because those green eyes will find their identity under my roof for the next number of years. I want my eyes to be a clear mirror to her of what she truly means to me, and to God. I want her to see love, life, beauty, freedom and safety. I don't want her to see judgment, condemnation, shame or insecurity. How she's seen now, by me and her Daddy, will translate into her own thoughts and feelings about herself one day. Even now, I hear her telling me new things about herself that she didn't know before. "Mommy, I can dance SO good!" or "Mommy, I can't draw that, it's too hard for me." Those thoughts could translate into permanent "tapes" that will play in her head for years and years to come. So, I want her to hear from her Momma that she's the bee's knees, the cat's pajamas, the best thing since sliced pineapple. And when she's older I want her to think that of herself (not obnoxiously, of course). So, today, as I lost my temper after my daughter asserted her heinously strong will for the eleventy billionth time, I stopped short. I apologized quickly for raising my voice and as her beautiful green eyes, now rimmed with tears, looked up at me I melted. She said, "That's okay, Mommy. I love you more than anything in the whole wide world." It's true what they say: Having a child is like watching your heart walk around outside your body. What a joy, and how very very hard.