You can use most any measure.
When you’re speaking of success.
You can measure it in fancy home, expensive car or dress.
But the measure of your real success is the one you cannot spend.
It’s the way your kids describe you when they’re talking to a friend.
I found this online today and it made me so sad. It was a rough morning. Started with me jumping into my teenager with both feet. He stays doing silly shit and I’m at my end with his bullshit.
Baby girl decided to tell me seconds before she was on her way to the bus stop…I forgot to do my home work. In those moments it boiled over and she got the spanking I felt she was due. She cried on her way out the door and I felt sick to death with motherhood.
I’m on the highway on my way to campus and it just hit me. Sometimes you have to be the soft one, some days they need me to be different, gentle.
I turned my truck around at the nearest exit and headed to Baby Girl’s school. School hadn’t started yet and bus had already dropped her off. I saw her as she came around the corner, head down, shoulders dropped. She just shuffled along. I started to cry before she even saw me. I had done this, I had defeated my own child.
She looks up and sees me crying for all the world (her world) to see. I hold my arms out for her and she just falls into me…crying. I get on my knees so I’m at her eye level. I wipe her tears and tell her mama was wrong to spank her and that I am so very sorry. I tell her over and over that she’s a good girl and that we all forget things. I tell her I’m sorry and I was wrong, wrong wrong. She cries harder. I hug her tighter. I tell her I’m sorry and there will be no TV or coloring for her tonight(the usual punishment for not doing homework). I tell her again mama is sorry and I’m not mad at her and I hope she won’t be mad at me anymore. I dry her tears and hug her again for my own sake. I send her off with as much love as I can squeeze into those moments.
Today I’m just sick to death of me.