Proud.

As a parent, it is easy to get wrapped up in everyday life. I will admit that often there are times where my kids test my frustration-level more than my love-level. I know that I am not perfect and no matter how hard I do try and bite my tongue, I know my quick wick sometimes gets the best of me; I am sure I say some things that I wish I didn't. It is something that I am trying to get better at, honestly.

My sister directed me toward this poetry reader that she found online; Her newly profound interest in poetry came out of nowhere, like many of her new ideas and interests. This poem struck me more than some of the other random poems and site readings she sends me via YouTube. Perhaps its because I'm a mom. Maybe its because of her openness and honesty. Maybe its because it is so true, hidden behind some locked file cabinet in our minds, we know all of this, but yet it doesn't seem significant enough at the time. 

At the time. At "this" time is what is most important. This is the time that will count for that time down the road.

In her poem, Rachel McKibbens mentions #1 "the crumpled photo of myself in the garbage".

One sunny afternoon, Maysen was going through my drawer where I keep old photos of classmates and dusty yearbooks. Annoyed he was dragging everything out of the drawers, I barked at him to put all the stuff back and shut the drawer. 

Who is this, mom? 

That's me. (Really do I look that different?)

How old were you? Why is your hair yellow? 

I explained that the picture was when I graduated high school, right before college. As for the yellow hair, I tried to rationalize why I had over-highlighted to cover my dark roots and then my hair got too brittle and only becau--- I stopped there because the deer-in-headlights look was too much.

Nevermind. My hair was just yellow in high school. 

He sat mesmerized and as his brother approached, he beamed.

Griffy did you know this was Momma when she was graduating High School? She was 18. She even has yellow hair!

He later asked for some tape. Annoyed at having to remove 29 feet of destroyed tape from his attempts to cut a 1" piece off, I gave him the tape. I didn't think to ask what it was for. 

That night, tired and eyes watering from yawning so much, I was talked into going upstairs to lay with him. Griffin had fallen fast asleep and was audibly snoring. 

Listen to that beast! 

We both giggled, knowing it probably wasn't the best thing to condone him calling his brother a "Beast". All in all, we sat and whispered to one another. Maysen loves hearing about stories of when I was young. As he yawned, I kissed his forehead. Something caught my eye.

Taped on his headboard was my senior picture. 

Why did you tape my picture up here?

Because, mom. You're so pretty! 

He now has 2 pictures on his headboard. My senior picture from 12yrs ago, and one photo my sister took of Maysen and I when he was about 3 months old. I am holding him  up in the bathtub, while he stares at Jenn with his huge blue eyes. He thinks he looks like "a baby monkey and I'm sooo cute, mom!".

I never want to see my picture crumpled up in the garbage. I think it would be the one thing in this world that could break my heart. I hope I always make him happy enough, proud enough, to display my picture.