An open letter to my 5 year old

Dearest Monster Man,

First, I'd like to remind you that it's widely accepted that your Momma is a little passed halfway to crazy town on a good day. Today, is not one of my good days.

I'm sorry that I didn't know you'd really like a new pair of mittens for the hayride at school until it was time to walk out the door and that your new "scarf" is merely a length of hastily cut jersey fabric that was on the top of my fabric bin.

I'm NOT sorry that I coerced you into wearing your new wool coat I spent $50 on instead of your two year old, worn, and well loved Batman hoodie that's simply not warm enough to be out extendedly in 50 degree weather.

I AM sorry that in my current state of being, namely sleep-deprived, half way through a debilitating illness, dehydrated, under-caffeinated, and generally feeling like I've been hit by a MAC truck, I was unable to act with the appropriate empathy and patience toward your plight in our entryway before rushing you out to the car.

Alas, sweet boy who made me "Momma," yours will never be the perfect, happy, Holly-Homemaker mother. She'll likely always always forget something and be rigging something on the fly in the eleventh hour. She'll probably never fully learn to plan ahead more effectively and NOT be finishing up the handout/project/whatever, or in today's case, the gift for the Ward Christmas Party she's chair of tomorrow on the night before it's needed. She may never feel like there isn't something she could have or should have done better.

But your mom has one single saving grace. She LOVES YOU. More than you'll likely ever fully understand.

Ours will be an amazingly fun and wonderfully messy life. I'll screw up and sometimes you will too. The best part is that every moment we can make new choices and try to be better.

Above all, thanks for showing me some grace. I know we held up the drop off line for a few moments while we talked it through again, but then you took a deep breath and hopped out into your teacher's arms even though you were mad at me and really wanted to cry. Sometimes your strength and compassion astound me.

Sincerely,
Your perfectly-imperfect, Domesticated Damsel definitely in distress, crazy-town, mother

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