I needed my son to scrape his knee today.
You see, my son has pushed me to my limits this week. He hasn’t been sleeping; he’s been wild and all boy, and screaming his lungs off every time he wants attention. Ive always been incredibly grateful for him, and have been feeling guilty about how irritated I’ve been with him lately. No sleep will do that to you.
Today, we played all morning. He napped when he decided he wanted a nap, I let him run the schedule. We played in the yard, in his little blue truck, and Sometime during that he decided he wanted his Dada. So he wobbles and runs up the drive way towards our garage, and once he made it to the tar, he fell.
Insert scraped knee.
It wasn’t until I sat him on my counter and cleaned up his leg, did I realize that this was the first of many. He had never scrapped his knee before, and I remembered how incredibly lucky I am to be present for another first. I was never able to be a comfort for my daughter. I was never able to kiss her boo boos or hold her when she cried, I never stayed up for hours and hours trying to soothe her. Oh, but I spent so many nights staring at the ceiling wishing I could hear her cry.
My point, is that I got to put my baby boy up on my counter. Clean up his little booboo. Slap a bandaid on it, and give him snuggles. I’m grateful for that, because it’s a privilege to be his momma I needed something this week to remind me of that.
It’s not that I don’t always know it, but of course somedays are harder than others.
