A Worst and Most-Blessed Mother

The other morning, the hubs had taken the car to work at an early hour and let me sleep in. I was woken up by the J-Rex, who proceeded to quiz me on my favorite breakfast foods and promptly bring me a surprise (I had to close my eyes when she brought it in) breakfast in bed. 

She made herself something and we sat in bed for a while. I talked to her about being proud of her. She opened up about her fears and we talked about that. It was a wonderful meal and I was left a bit in awe of who this little 8 year old girl is becoming.

A little bit later, she was asking what day it was. Lately, I've been so busy with a multitude of rapid changes going on in my life that I've lost track of the days in my mad rush to get things done. I had to check a calendar.

The 8th.

Something important was on the 8th.

I tell the J-Rex and she immediately rushes to check a flyer we have on the refrigerator, desperately asking the time. We've completely missed her field trip to the Center for Puppetry Arts. The J-Rex is in tears. 

I hadn't even remembered to RSVP. I felt terrible. That's my job, to keep track of these things, and I had messed up big. I held her as she cried and, at a loss, asked what I could do.

I didn't expect her to, but the J-Rex had an answer. She wanted to go to the park and play by the river. I promised her we would go, apologized for missing the field trip, and, amazingly, we simply went back to what we were doing. No harm done.

I was never so understanding at her age. Never so in control of my emotions. I was once again in awe of this child. My child.

That afternoon, we put on our messiest clothes and headed out to play in some river mud. And with every stone we tried to skip, I sent out a little prayer of thanks for the blessing of my little girl.