I woke up this morning feeling a strange sorrow I couldn't put my finger on. I'm not sure if I was having some kind of sad dream that was forgotten as I awoke or what, but as I got breakfasts and packed lunches, my thoughts began to rest on memories of my babies when they were tiny... and that feeling of sorrow evolved into regret.
Now, for some reason, the memories that my mind keeps chewing on are all the memories of frustration, angry words, and actions taken without much thought and directed towards my strong-willed Littles. I could easily take a few moments for each memory that pops up and justify, justify, justify... but instead I just find myself wondering if my kiddos will remember what I remember.
As a parent, I try so hard to maintain a balance of freedom and rules, of lightness and seriousness, of mistakes and correction. However I can't escape those days when I go to bed feeling like the entire day was spent fighting, struggling, and yelling. On those days my cruel memory makes it easy for me to look back into my early parenthood and taint all those memories with the same feeling.
I know I've got good intentions and everyone's best interests at heart, but am I missing a better way of going about it all? Is it possible that I'm creating darkness in their childhood that they'll look back on with regret, too?
So this morning I dove into the archives to remind myself of the happiness that has been with us, balancing the hard stuff and outweighing the struggles that everyone- everyone- feels at times.
My babies were happy, and they are happy. Not because I've made them happy, but because I've given them the tools to make themselves happy. The balance I work to achieve in our lives would not exist without a counterpoint of conflict. It can't be all rainbows and butterflies all the time. That's how psychos are made.
Today, I just needed to make that point to myself.