More than I Deserve

I went to Breakfast with Mommy at preschool today. There was doughnut stickiness, sweet smiling faces, thumbprint-decorated potted flowers, and happy kids running off to their classrooms with barely time to spare for telling me, "Bye, Ma! See you later alligator, after while crocodile!" They love it there. I love it there.

My Flowers

Ella spent the night with Grandmother last night and I heard that she woke up terribly excited about Breakfast with Mommy and the things she had made for me. She couldn't wait to show me the little book she made about all the reasons she loves her mom, complete with pictures she drew.

It humbled me to my core.

Sometimes I get so caught up in my to-do list, in the routine, in myself, that I forget to stop and appreciate them. Sometimes I'm just going through the motions trying to make sure their physical needs are met - food, drink, sleep, play - that I forget to enjoy the people that they are along the way.

I love them. I love them so much that I tell them "no" and "stop" and "be respectful" and "that's annoying" and "clean up the mess you just made". I love them so much that I acknowledge their anger and hurt feelings and complete, tantruming meltdowns when they don't like my answer, but I don't excuse them from the consequences. I love them so much that I spend too much time working to make sure they have clean clothes, clean teeth, clean bodies, clean dishes, clean rooms; I don't always spend enough time playing. I don't always spend enough time listening, or reading to them, or cuddling them.

And yet, they love me. They love me so much that they get really, really excited about having breakfast with me at school, and about the flower pots they painted with their thumbs, and about the book she made for me.

Ella's Book

It humbles me because the very things she listed as her reasons for loving me are the things that I always think I need to do better. They are more than I deserve.