His brother is in Omaha this week, getting royally spoiled by my parents.
Without a constant companion, Bubs isn’t sure what to do with himself. Art and I aren’t very good at Legos, you know. And Squeezy mostly just likes to steal them for a little choking opportunity snack.
He’s been reading a lot. About the Titanic, mostly. And he’s been watching some TV, and helping out a bit, and today he went to the library with Art.
Tomorrow is his last day of school. Deserving of a treat, I think. First grade– survived.
He’s a great kid. Spending time with him this week, while he’s been hanging around more without a brother to hole up in the basement and make evil plans with, it’s been good.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this son, about parenting, about how tall he’s getting and how many things he knows and how innocent he still is. I think about the young man he is becoming– the man he will be someday– and how I am influencing him.
Do I bake him cookies enough? Do I tell him I love him enough? Am I teaching him the right things?
None of us has a perfect mother, and my son is no different. I am so far from perfect it hurts sometimes.
I don’t garden, don’t sew, don’t hang my clothes on the clothesline. I don’t recycle or feed my kids organic foods or even put the laundry away half the time.
I don’t pray with them often enough, don’t gather them around the table after breakfast to read God’s Word. I don’t know how to answer all his questions or what I will do when he asks the really tough ones.
Some of these things need to change, will change, are changing. Some of them will probably never change. I am surely no supermom. I’m just a woman, blessed with three children and praying for the grace to get through.
Oh Lord, make me worthy of this task.