As much as I love having a little boy, there is nothing that compares to
having a little girl. She is truly heart of my heart. I adore her, she
makes me laugh every day and stretches my heart in ways that I could
never have imagined. I dream big dreams of her.
She follows me everywhere. And I mean everywhere.
If
I'm in the kitchen, she's at the counter "helping" do dishes. If I'm in
the laundry, she's jabbering away while folding (scrunching) clothes
up. If I'm watching Judge Judy (a guilty pleasure) she's sitting there
beside me laughing it up. When I put on makeup, she's got a set of
brushes and some powder she likes to swirl on.
She's such a
paradox. She's really, really loving. Very motherly. 90% of the time
she's dragging a baby doll along with her. Her favorite person to take
care of? Bubby. She makes sure he has milk to drink, snacks to eat, toys
to play with. (She also is the first to whack him upside the head if
the mood strikes, but then she soothes him, saying, "Sorry Bubby. Sorry
Bubby. You ok?" over and over.)
I am so aware of my influence in
her life. By the very way I am living my life I am teaching her BIG, BIG
lessons. She will love her husband the way I love the Poppa. She will
love herself the way I love myself. Silently, without saying a word, I
am the one she will compare all things female to.
The power of
this relationship scares me at times. I feel inadequate. Unprepared.
There is so much of my life I need to repair, to fix, to correct. I
cannot lead her in the way she should go. Many nights I fall into bed
knowing that I have failed. I have not imparted wisdom. Tears fall from
my eyes and I do the only thing I know to do in those moments.
I pray.
I pray very, very hard.
And
if somehow, someway I can pass that one nugget of truth along to
her........that in her moments of weakness & failure, there is a God
who loves us beyond all human understanding........then I will have
considered my parenting skills to be complete.
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