letter to myself

Dear Shelly,

You are tired.  That is okay. Normal, even.  You have two three year olds and a ten-month-old baby.  Sleep will come to you again, someday.  In the meantime, how about you cut yourself some slack.

Yesterday as part of Day One of Intentional Parenting (the brilliant brain-child of Rachel over at Finding Joy)  you took ten minute of undivided time and gave it to Wyatt.  He was fussy, and you went to him, scooped him up and held him.  You rocked him gently in the easy chair, and he melted into you, thankful that you had just what he needed most: attention.

And after naps, when Logan & Jack woke up, you gave them ten minutes of uninterrupted attention as well, when you helped them glue popsicle sticks together in whatever fashion they desired.  This ten minutes bought you at least twenty, as they flew their popsicle-stick airplanes around the living room.

You are doing it. You are being a good mom. Are you perfect? No.  But are you enough? Yes.  You love them, hug them, kiss them and discipline them.  That is all they ask for.

In the future there will be more time for you, for journaling, for working out, for being introspective.  Right now, just squeeze in what you can, try to get by, and remember that all they want is you.  You looking, you watching, you paying attention, you being present.

It's that simple.

The housework will always call to you.  The laundry will never be done. And each month the bills will require paying.  Just make sure that while those things are important, they never take precedence over your children, who are even more important.

Also, remember to breathe.  I think sometimes that hours go by without you taking a real breath in.  The kind that fills your lungs with good, clean oxygen and lowers your shoulders down from their "resting place" up by your ears.

You have been through a lot in the last year.  More, perhaps, than all the previous years combined.  Allow yourself to be, sometimes.  Just be.  Feel the feelings that come.  Sadness at the time you spent apart from your beloved; joy at being reunited.  Guilt for the days when you are short-tempered with the children; cheerful for the days when you can play & be one of them.

And remember, I am proud of you.
I am proud of you for being brave.

{{hugs}}