Everyone knows I love my kids, but I'm also a big whiner. Raising kids is hard work and it's often relentless. Sometimes I worry that I lack some maternal genes because I don't wear the badge of selflessness proudly and certain mom things do not get me all a-flutter. My mom, the original mama bear, swears each baby has a scent of the gods. I remember her spending hours smelling her grandsons. Yeah, I do their laundry, and I know what they really smell like.
Tomorrow, my baby turns 7. I made his sugar cookies on sticks (stupid box and its stupid ideas) and I color coordinated the frosting with the craft sticks (oh, my little darling loves the organization I sought in my former childless life). Thankfully, there were only four colors of sticks. Everyone knows I am far from being a gifted baker and/or decorator, but Jacob peeked out of bed and he thinks my cookies rock.
As much as I adore baking, tonight I felt a strong tenderness toward my son as I sewed his badges on his Cub Scout uniform. (By the way, I also lack advanced sewing skills). As I thought about those beautiful brown eyes and his unbelievable ability to make me laugh and marvel one moment and on the verge of losing my mind the next, I found myself smiling. My little storyteller has devoured stories I've read and books I've treasured. He shares deep insights about my God and reminds me that someone is watching. I can only hope that he feels cloaked in love tomorrow as he puts his Cub Scout shirt.
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