If you ask my older children they will probably tell you that their baby brother gets to have the best version of me, however he honestly only gets the best and worst of me.
Yes, he is the one that lives with me full time. Yes, he gets a home with two parents very much in love with each other. Yes, he gets a mom whose anxiety is under control (most days) and depression is no longer in sight, but there are still many things they had that he doesn’t or now I should say, didn’t.
The other day my daughter called me in to her room to hear a song. I was thinking “oh here we go with another inappropriate song that most likely isn’t in english”… and I’m not being racist, it’s legitimately the only language I know! But instead it was a song we used to sing and dance to when we were getting ready. Our “Getting Dressed Dance Parties”. Something I did with both her and my middle son although he was not old enough to fully remember it now.
That moment stopped me in my tracks and I realized that this is exactly how I want my kids to remember me. Do I want them to remember the times I go to bat for them or all the stands I sit in cheering for them? Of course I do, but most of all I want them to remember these moments of slowing down and having fun. Something as simple as turning on some music and dancing around while getting dressed (or awesomely hand painted holiday windows).
It was also that moment a light bulb went off, that this is one of the things my youngest doesn’t get from me. Let it be because I’m older now (I was in my early and mid twenties when I had the older two) and my energy isn’t where it used to be or simply because I am constantly rushing around or on the phone dealing with teenage daughter issues… but it was something so important to my daughters memory of me, a change had to be made. How my children one day remember their Mom is important to me.
They won’t remember if the house was always clean and the laundry was folded. They won’t remember if there were dishes in the sink. They probably will remember how much we are in the car, that one is unavoidable, but the main thing I want to give them is a Mom who knew the importance of the little things. A Mom that knew to pump the breaks so that all of her kids got the very best version on her.
So for now, as the saying goes, Please excuse the mess, memories are being made…
… and turn the music up!