Willow,
My feisty, sassy little pixie - the things that come out of your mouth crack me up and amaze me all at once.
7/23/11
6/30/11
Letters to Guinevere & Willow Rain as I stumble my way through this calling that is motherhood.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Guin-ism's
Guin,
I am in awe of the things that you say sometimes. You make me laugh, and at the same time you floor me almost daily with your ability to understand the world in such a smart and creative way.
7/27/11
G: "Mom, we need to put a hot tub in the dining room."
M: "Oh yeah? Why's that?"
G: "We could sit in it, and use the hot water to make our oatmeal."
M: "Well, where would we put the table then?"
G: "In the garage."
7/11/11
I am in awe of the things that you say sometimes. You make me laugh, and at the same time you floor me almost daily with your ability to understand the world in such a smart and creative way.
7/27/11
G: "Mom, we need to put a hot tub in the dining room."
M: "Oh yeah? Why's that?"
G: "We could sit in it, and use the hot water to make our oatmeal."
M: "Well, where would we put the table then?"
G: "In the garage."
7/11/11
My first letter
Guin and Willow -
I guess I need to start by apologizing for not starting this sooner. I stole this idea from some of my friends who have babies - they are so good about documenting each little thing that happens as their kids grow, and it's made me realize that even though you are only in your fifth and third years of life, you have already done so many things that I will not remember. You both grow and change so quickly and I enjoy every new stage so much, but the more you blossom the more I realize how quickly these moments fade to memories.
I want to write to you, not just to record all of the amazing little things you do and say, but to give you my perspective. Each day you learn more about this brilliant and difficult world we live in, and I want you to know that you help me see that world in such a different way. I want you to know that being your mom is the hardest most rewarding thing I have ever done. I want you to know that I will never love you equally, but differently. I want you to know that I am human, and that even though you see me through innocent, adoring eyes right now, I have, and will continue to make mistakes. You will not always like me. And I will not always like you. But I want you to know that you make me a better person.
So forgive me, my tiny women, for I won't always be perfect. And I hope that gives you permission to be just who you are, perfectly imperfect. My life is better each day with you both in it.
Love,
Mom
I guess I need to start by apologizing for not starting this sooner. I stole this idea from some of my friends who have babies - they are so good about documenting each little thing that happens as their kids grow, and it's made me realize that even though you are only in your fifth and third years of life, you have already done so many things that I will not remember. You both grow and change so quickly and I enjoy every new stage so much, but the more you blossom the more I realize how quickly these moments fade to memories.
I want to write to you, not just to record all of the amazing little things you do and say, but to give you my perspective. Each day you learn more about this brilliant and difficult world we live in, and I want you to know that you help me see that world in such a different way. I want you to know that being your mom is the hardest most rewarding thing I have ever done. I want you to know that I will never love you equally, but differently. I want you to know that I am human, and that even though you see me through innocent, adoring eyes right now, I have, and will continue to make mistakes. You will not always like me. And I will not always like you. But I want you to know that you make me a better person.
So forgive me, my tiny women, for I won't always be perfect. And I hope that gives you permission to be just who you are, perfectly imperfect. My life is better each day with you both in it.
Love,
Mom
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