I love this face. I love this boy with every fiber of my being. (And by the way, it’s horribly unfair that he got the long lashes and full lips in the family. It’s just not right.)
But there are days, recently more often than not, that I long for these days.
I want to see him do this.
(I thought this picture was funny when I took it, but today, it just makes my heart hurt.)
It’s a battle. Watching my firstborn develop a personality that is, at times, eerily similar to his father. Stubborn. Strong-willed. Very opinionated. I have to remind myself constantly that no matter how much I love my kids and want to be their friend, my first and foremost responsibility is to be their parent. To help shape them into the very best person that they can be. Oh my, is it hard. Forget diapers. And bottles. And lugging around tons of baby gear. The real parenting starts when your child begins to question life, and as a result, your authority. When they push the limits- just because they can. When they begin to form their own opinions, no longer taking your word as the gospel truth. When they suddenly absolutely will not take off the pair of jeans with the holes in the knees, although they have many pairs of nice pants.
Some days I just want to cry because I love this little booger so much. And I know it makes him just as unhappy as it makes me when we clash. But I must, must, must remain strong. Guide my children. Teach my children. Love my children. And pray….pray with all my might….that I did something right. I want to enjoy these years, and I’m sure I’ll look back at this post someday and grin, remembering all the silly little arguments. But for now, in this very moment, these silly little arguments feel monumentally huge, like one small misstep can result in disastrous consequences.
And also, it’s really hard to stay mad at someone who is this cute. Seriously.