Bubs, I mess up a lot when it comes to parenting you.
I misunderstand your whiny cries for attention.
I get mad when you want to cuddle. All. Day.
Or when you want me to carry you around the house.
It drives me crazy when you take your adorable little feet and wiggle them under my legs.
I yell when you sit on your sister or knock her down instead of calmly instructing you.
I value the comfort of sitting by myself more than letting you cuddle me in our rocking chair.
I forget you're a little boy and designed to fight and be loud.
I correct your cute words, because you're talking like a baby.
I never give you the benefit of the doubt.
You are only three and I treat you like you're 8.
Yesterday, we dropped you off at your cousins. You were so excited to see them that you ran and jumped onto their bed. They got mad at you and you cried. I was annoyed because I
thought you were being whiny. Luckily, Daddy saw what really happened and corrected me.
I'm so so sorry.
I have asked for your forgiveness to which you replied, "It's otay mamma."
Your unconditional love makes me smile.
I know this won't be the last time I confess and repent of selfish parenting.
Luckily, you have a Dad who knows how to love you well and is gentle. I learn a lot from watching him. But you also have a Creator who loves you more than your Father and I ever could. He knows you deeper, loves you harder, and He will never ever fail you.
I'm so grateful for God's grace in Jesus. I want nothing more than to be the best mamma for you, but history reveals that I will get lost in my own self-centeredness. Jesus will not. You can trust Him.
I love you, baby, and I pray that above my mistakes you see Jesus' life alive in your Father and me.
Because they said it better than I could.