Every Moment Counts

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My son is an athlete and this weekend he broke his hand.  He most likely needs surgery and he’ll be out for  the season.  He has a good attitude about the injury, and in his attitude I see how much he’s grown, how much he’s learned in these past few years that we’ve had together.  We truly have learned to turn a challenge into an opportunity.  There’s no sitting down here; we’re moving forward.  Rather, he’s moving forward.  Sometimes I forget that I am not him and he is not me. I forget that he has become a man. They tell me this is normal mother-thinking.  Every day I’m learning to be a mother.  In moments like this, in times such as this, I believe that I have become a mother.

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A Chill of Mom-ness

I’m very protective of the children who depend on me.

I never thought that I’d be called mom, and now that I answer to that call, every time I hear that sacred name, I get chills and I’m taken outside of myself and into another realm.  That name “mom”  sends me to a plane of gratitude.  Hearing the word uttered,  no matter what the tone may be, makes me happy beyond the description I try to so desperately convey.

I  wanted to belong, to feel needed, and now that I’m called “mom” I attest that my purpose has been realized.

If I sound like a cliche,  please do forgive as I relish in this small window of wonder, as it is so swiftly passing.

Soon my child(ren) will be off and gone and I will again be that woman searching….