My friend Kellie just told me she's not blogging lately because there's not anything she's passionate enough about that she wants to share in writing. Amen, sista! I LOVE my blog, but in the middle of the days that are a blur of lunch boxes, traffic, conference calls and the grocery store there really aren't a lot of things that are worthy of the attention a blog post would command.
Then I heard about Shell's "Pour Your Heart Out" and tonight it's the perfect outlet for my misplaced frustration and heavy heart. Tonight, of all nights, I have to pour my heart out about two sweet you know who's ~ of course.
And I loathe myself for being that person as often as I am
They are so good. And funny. And talented. And sweet. And smart. And they're still young enough that they WANT ME TO HELP THEM. In the essence of Pour Your Heart Out I am heartbroken even as I type. They WANT ME TO HELP THEM and on too many days I am just spent. The selfish thirty something that went to work at 6 AM and has traffic court tomorrow can't keep it together until 8 PM to do whatever they ask. I can't curb my innate sense of whateverness long enough to help with a Venn Diagram and a butterfly graph.
I did pray tonight, and read Henry and the Buccaneer Bunnies with her and have "Talk Night" with him, but it should have been more. They deserved more, but all of my more got sucked up before they got me. I knew it and I fought it and felt guilty even as I tried to salvage something for them. Always guilty.
I want them to move confidently in the world and get good grades. I want them to be the kids that are always welcomed by other parents because of their impeccable manners. I want them to make good choices when they don't want to listen to me anymore. I want them to be the very best versions of them they can be.
I want them to know how much I love them.
Him and Her