Last night was hard.
Bedtime stretched on longer than it should have, two long hours of patience, negotiation, and exhaustion before the kids finally drifted off to sleep. Just as the house fell quiet, my son woke up coughing. And then, as these things often go, he vomited on himself, on the bed, everywhere.
Instead of meeting the moment with empathy, I met it with irritation.
Half-awake and overwhelmed, I grumbled while changing him and stripping the sheets. My frustration was loud in my heart, even if my words were few. My son, sweet soul that he is, barely stirred. Once he was clean and warm again, he simply went back to sleep.
This morning, he woke up exactly as he always does , happy, smiley, loving. No resentment. No memory of my annoyance. Just pure affection.
I, on the other hand, woke up heavy with guilt.
Why did something so small feel so big in the moment? Why did my tiredness turn into anger so quickly? And how is it that he can love me so freely, even when I fall short?
Children have a remarkable way of forgiving. They don’t hold grudges over our imperfect moments. They don’t keep score. They meet us each day with open hearts, even when we don’t always meet them with our best selves.
I’m sorry, my baby.
Thank you for your quiet forgiveness, for your unwavering love, and for teaching me again that patience is learned one moment at a time.
Mama is still learning. And I promise to keep trying.
Inside My Thoughts 