My fingers worked the dough from memory:
I’ve missed the familiar moves
If writing is my true love
cooking was my first.
Last week I wrote about the struggles to let go, to love myself.
I shared how I wrote myself a little note.
Then I was reminded that I’m not alone here, in this life. Someone else wants to love me, too.
Someone else already does.
Walking through the school halls this week I’ve been deliberate in making sure I’m kissing my boy in public a bit obsessively. I realize that when it’s his turn to let go of my hand at the end of that hallway he will shoot in the other direction when I lean down to smell his strawberry hair one last time that morning.
He might even make that noise that alerts all parents to Step Away, Embarrassing Moment Ensuing!!! to which I will shrink away from, wave and go borrow someone’s baby to hold.
Letting go really is that hard, for me. Not for everyone I understand. And I’m committing to taking it one day at a time so I don’t freak out now about something that hasn’t happened yet. (See that, Mom? That is me being relaxed. Chilling out. That’s me taking advice. That’s me listening. ALL THOSE YEARS WORKED!!)
I tend to be ultra hard on myself where Parenting is concerned, who isn’t? But I’m also a little over dramatic some times and I have issues with expectations.
I am well aware of all of this. I am. I work on it and don’t always win the head game that is “Make the voice stop yelling at me that I’m doing it all wrong.”
So I’m soaking up the tender little moments that I’m allowed to savor right now. The kissing my son over and over and over again in public. Cuddling him a little longer on the bench, catching his sister in a wild hug as she runs by.
I love to be touched and I love to touch. Skin contact is a love language for me, I love love love sitting closely, holding hands and being kissed. And when all of that happens without my beckoning for it?
My angels sing in Heaven for me. A wild chorus of praises … a sweet and beautiful ballad. My Love Bank was just deposited.
I am not embarrassed to love you.
But somehow, I’ve been embarrassed to love me for as long as I can remember … so this morning I wrote myself a little note that says:
“Jodi – I will love you today.
And guess what happened? My angels in Heaven sang for me … a sweet and beautiful ballad. My Love Bank was just deposited.