I'm doing the best I can, and it is enough. Sometimes I need to speak it to believe it. These are hard days, days when it's easy to believe that I can't do enough no matter how hard I try.
Lauren lost her Dumbo stuffed animal that she has carried around with her since she was 9 months old. And there were no histrionics, no fits, just quiet tears and a hope that Santa Claus will be able to mail us one before Christmas with the same blue eyes as her old Dumbo. She did break down when her sister told her she was sure that wherever Dumbo was, he was missing her. The thought of him sad and lonely and missing her was too much for her heart to bear. We have been living in a climate of loss for the past two years and it was so hard to watch this brave little soul handle the loss of her friend so well. I felt powerless to shield her from the sadness of loss and life, and it weighed so heavy on my heart. I found myself crying along with her over the loss of Dumbo. I ordered a new Dumbo online (with the same blue eyes) and will go to a couple stores tomorrow to look for him. Even though it feels so inadequate, I know it's the best I can do and it will have to be enough.
The other day Henry brought his report card home and he showed so much improvement in so many areas. I was so proud of him. He is very smart, but he is a dreamer and loves to get lost in the process of things. He's never quite as concerned with the outcomes as we product-driven adults can be. The confines and structure of school, while good for him, are challenging. As we were talking while I was tucking him into bed, I told him again how proud I was of him and I wanted him to know that I could see how hard he works at school. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and his voice broke when he said, "You know Mom, sometimes it's really hard work... school." And I said, "I know baby, I know." And I really did know as I looked at his big brown eyes - he's doing the absolute best he can, and it is so much more than enough.
Today Grace was sitting at the kitchen table and I said, "Hey, I love you." And she said, "I know, why do you always tell me that?" To which I replied, "So you'll never forget." She looked at me like I was the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen and said, "How could I ever forget?!" And then she threw her arms around me and laughed. Yeah... I'm doing the best I can, and it is enough.
Lauren lost her Dumbo stuffed animal that she has carried around with her since she was 9 months old. And there were no histrionics, no fits, just quiet tears and a hope that Santa Claus will be able to mail us one before Christmas with the same blue eyes as her old Dumbo. She did break down when her sister told her she was sure that wherever Dumbo was, he was missing her. The thought of him sad and lonely and missing her was too much for her heart to bear. We have been living in a climate of loss for the past two years and it was so hard to watch this brave little soul handle the loss of her friend so well. I felt powerless to shield her from the sadness of loss and life, and it weighed so heavy on my heart. I found myself crying along with her over the loss of Dumbo. I ordered a new Dumbo online (with the same blue eyes) and will go to a couple stores tomorrow to look for him. Even though it feels so inadequate, I know it's the best I can do and it will have to be enough.
The other day Henry brought his report card home and he showed so much improvement in so many areas. I was so proud of him. He is very smart, but he is a dreamer and loves to get lost in the process of things. He's never quite as concerned with the outcomes as we product-driven adults can be. The confines and structure of school, while good for him, are challenging. As we were talking while I was tucking him into bed, I told him again how proud I was of him and I wanted him to know that I could see how hard he works at school. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and his voice broke when he said, "You know Mom, sometimes it's really hard work... school." And I said, "I know baby, I know." And I really did know as I looked at his big brown eyes - he's doing the absolute best he can, and it is so much more than enough.
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