I am not failing *insert surprise face here*

There is a strange space for introverted, creative people when we are so deep in our process that we over-think EVERYTHING. Those who know me well know that I exist in this space often. I’ve been told that I could talk myself out of the best decision of my life, and do it so well that I’d feel justified on both sides. Truth.

Deylan is in middle school, and it is really difficult for both of us navigating this new territory. The hormones, man…oh…em…gee. I have high standards for my children (and really, all children) but I say all that time that I am as strict as I love. The depth of my love for my children is something I cannot articulate, and I take my responsibility as a parent and caregiver extremely seriously. It is my job to put people in the world who are conscious, contributing, compassionate, and curious. I can change the world by putting good people in to it.

I write all of this because my passion is working with children and their families, and the last year of parenting a pre-teen through transition has shaken my confidence to the core. I have so many friends who come to me for help with their children, yet there were days I was ending my day in tears over parenting my own. I have felt like a failure and a fraud. I’ve been unable to progress with my book and my coaching. And then…I chaperoned a middle school field trip.

Today, my son ran up to his sister, scooped her up in his arms, and took her to his desk. He parted the crowds of kids so she could see the fish, and he did so without one single moment of embarrassment. My pre-teen hugged me, and he proudly answered “Yes, that’s my mom” when the other kids asked. We walked to the beach for a clean up, and he held his sister the entire walk there. He stopped to help her zip up her jacket, and he made sure she could be a part of the process. When the other kids weren’t behaving, he told them to stop, or gave me space as the authority figure to correct them. And when we were standing on the beach? He leaned on me, and tucked his head under my chin.

Several of the kids in that class were good kids. Respectful, engaging, intelligent. Then there were the ones that made me want to yank him out and home school him, like…the moment we got back to the school. I was appalled by their behaviour. And there was my son, walking with me, chatting about normal stuff. In those moments, suddenly I knew I wasn’t failing. All of the self doubt and feeling like a fraud melted away as I walked with my son. I started to believe, truly, that maybe I *can* write my book, and I *can* start working with families on a more in-depth basis.

My son is amazing. He is kind, open, articulate, curious, intelligent, and much more. Yes, we struggle some times, and it an be quite a doozy when we do. We are both strong individuals, and oooooh weeee are we both stubborn. But we both love, oh we love so deeply. Every day I say, “I love you more than my heart can beat!” and it’s true because the only way I would stop is if I were dead. He is such a profound teacher sometimes. Today was a great lesson.

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