We all have good intentions.
Okay.
Maybe not us all.
Because we know there are some really big donkey's behind peeps out there.
But let's; for the sake of argument, go with "we all have good intentions"
We hope to be kind.
To pay it forward.
To let the person waiting to make a left turn go in front of us.
To not notify the Stop and Shop police when the woman with 13 items goes in the express line.
We are hoping we are raising good little humans.
Please and thank you.
Holding the door open.
Flush when you poop.
Be inclusive.
I believe we whole heartedly mean it when we say we are not sweating the small stuff.
But some only mean it in the moment.
For the day.
Or maybe a week.
I dont blame you.
Our lives move on after those fleeing moments and we get caught up in our day to day drama.
Because there are only oh so many times you can take it after removing your kids underpants out of his inside out pants while doing HIS laundry.
(Hypothetically speaking- always.)
No one can lead by example all the time.
I really hope even Oprah would understand the frustration of a type A mother who doesn't see the need for 33 koosh balls being collected in the bottom drawer starting 11 years ago.
(You know. Hypothetical.)
I speak a good speak and for the most part I try to walk my walk but I like to gossip with my girlfriends and sometimes a good yelling at my (insert kid, spouse, partner, parent, whomever) feels kinda liberating.
But then I remember to breathe.
And apologize.
And try to end the day on a high note.
And promise that the next day I wont lose my crap.
We need to remember where we were at that moment when we vowed to be kind, (or pay it forward, or not sweat the small stuff, or to remember the important things)
I tell everyone this story....
I spent many a day at Children's Hospital in Boston with oldest.
Many appointments and overnight stays and months in that NICU.
I saw many a child hooked up to IV poles, with physical deformities, carting oxygen tanks and feeding tubes around with them.
I saw many a parent looking drained and tired and fearful and petrified.
I was that parent.
Carting the oxygen tank, and the feeding pump and the ventilator while I got started at by other parents who were there with their healthy children for possibly just a sprained ankle or needing ear tubes.
I wanted so desperately to be THAT parent.
But what I vowed then was to not be that parent.
Because that parent was staring at my child.
Because my child looked different.
Because my first born baby was hooked up to a machine with tubes.
They didn't notice his chunky little cheeks
or his gorgeous eyes
or contagious smile.
They only saw what was wrong.
What was different.
I am no different than you.
We are curious. And often judgmental.
But I have walked a different road.
And followed a different path.
Which led me here.
I am thankful for my oldest child a million and one reasons that I could never possibly all list but the big one is that he helped mold me into the person I am today.
So my moral of this story,
what I usually end with,
is this...
When you're feeling sorry for yourself that your child is failing Math
Or wasn't invited to the big party
didn't make varsity
has his 15th case of strep throat...
When you're feeling sorry for yourself that you are on your 10th load of laundry after a long ass day or your toddler wont poop in a toilet
or the cat threw up on the rug
or your husband loaded the dishwasher "wrong"
and the kids underwear is left in his pants
spend an hour
one hour
in the lobby at your local Children's Hospital
I assure you
none of it will matter anymore.
Godspeed my village
Happy Fourth of July
Okay.
Maybe not us all.
Because we know there are some really big donkey's behind peeps out there.
But let's; for the sake of argument, go with "we all have good intentions"
We hope to be kind.
To pay it forward.
To let the person waiting to make a left turn go in front of us.
To not notify the Stop and Shop police when the woman with 13 items goes in the express line.
We are hoping we are raising good little humans.
Please and thank you.
Holding the door open.
Flush when you poop.
Be inclusive.
I believe we whole heartedly mean it when we say we are not sweating the small stuff.
But some only mean it in the moment.
For the day.
Or maybe a week.
I dont blame you.
Our lives move on after those fleeing moments and we get caught up in our day to day drama.
Because there are only oh so many times you can take it after removing your kids underpants out of his inside out pants while doing HIS laundry.
(Hypothetically speaking- always.)
No one can lead by example all the time.
I really hope even Oprah would understand the frustration of a type A mother who doesn't see the need for 33 koosh balls being collected in the bottom drawer starting 11 years ago.
(You know. Hypothetical.)
I speak a good speak and for the most part I try to walk my walk but I like to gossip with my girlfriends and sometimes a good yelling at my (insert kid, spouse, partner, parent, whomever) feels kinda liberating.
But then I remember to breathe.
And apologize.
And try to end the day on a high note.
And promise that the next day I wont lose my crap.
We need to remember where we were at that moment when we vowed to be kind, (or pay it forward, or not sweat the small stuff, or to remember the important things)
I tell everyone this story....
I spent many a day at Children's Hospital in Boston with oldest.
Many appointments and overnight stays and months in that NICU.
I saw many a child hooked up to IV poles, with physical deformities, carting oxygen tanks and feeding tubes around with them.
I saw many a parent looking drained and tired and fearful and petrified.
I was that parent.
Carting the oxygen tank, and the feeding pump and the ventilator while I got started at by other parents who were there with their healthy children for possibly just a sprained ankle or needing ear tubes.
I wanted so desperately to be THAT parent.
But what I vowed then was to not be that parent.
Because that parent was staring at my child.
Because my child looked different.
Because my first born baby was hooked up to a machine with tubes.
They didn't notice his chunky little cheeks
or his gorgeous eyes
or contagious smile.
They only saw what was wrong.
What was different.
I am no different than you.
We are curious. And often judgmental.
But I have walked a different road.
And followed a different path.
Which led me here.
I am thankful for my oldest child a million and one reasons that I could never possibly all list but the big one is that he helped mold me into the person I am today.
So my moral of this story,
what I usually end with,
is this...
When you're feeling sorry for yourself that your child is failing Math
Or wasn't invited to the big party
didn't make varsity
has his 15th case of strep throat...
When you're feeling sorry for yourself that you are on your 10th load of laundry after a long ass day or your toddler wont poop in a toilet
or the cat threw up on the rug
or your husband loaded the dishwasher "wrong"
and the kids underwear is left in his pants
spend an hour
one hour
in the lobby at your local Children's Hospital
I assure you
none of it will matter anymore.
Godspeed my village
Happy Fourth of July
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