Dirty faced babies running outside in the sunshine, and all but one is mine. Oh, he’s mine on some level, same grin and orneriness, same hair… the grandbaby runs, transfixed on his Uncle Eli, all of 3 years old, copying every move, and Eli plays, alternately miffed at the intrusion of attention lost, and loving the adoration and company. It’s so much different than the life that we plan out, isn’t it? I sit poised on the edge of 40, no time to worry about wrinkles with the multitude of children, and ponder what’s gone on. But one huge difference still affects each of my days-my son. I was given a son at the age of 16. I knew nothing. I had babysat, but that is NOT the same. (Can I get an amen?) « Continue reading »
|
|
||
|
I used to hate Mother’s day. Not because I was not grateful for my Mother or for what my Grandmothers did for me. They were and are great women. I hated Mothers day because it was a day to remember and honor mothers. Something I longed so badly to be but was not. « Continue reading » |
  |
|
|
Copyright © 2010 Inspirational Parenting - All Rights Reserved |
||