What will they think when they are my age?

I often find myself envisioning George and Clara in their thirties with families of their own.  I often wonder when they look back on their childhood, what will they think?  What words will they use to describe the years to come?  How will they view me as a Mother?  I often think about my childhood now that I have children.  I reflect back on my parents and many times in wonder at how they kept it all going. 

My Mom did it all.  She worked.  She didn't miss a dance practice, recital, cub scout meeting, basketball game, or school play.  Home cooked yummy dinner was on the table every single night.  Lunches were packed every single morning.  She cleaned the house, did the laundry, and kept us on top of our school work.  And did I mention she worked?  She was a chauffeur, nurse, counselor, and referee. She listened.  She supported.  She loved.  She was my biggest cheerleader and a soft place to fall when I was hurting.  And while she kept all of these plates spinning, she made things fun.  Running errands were "magical mystery tours" and birthday parties were BIG.  It always felt like she was saying, "I am celebrating you!  Another fantastic year with you in my life!  I can't wait to see what next year will bring."  She always knew how to make us feel special.  An amazing Mom.  When I think of her now, I think of her heart. She has the biggest heart.  And she made so many sacrifices so that we were content and cared for and loved.  I also envision her as superwoman, cape flying behind her and all.

When I think of my Dad, I think of strength and comfort.  To me as a child my Dad was invincible.  My very own superhero that kept me safe and secure.  He was a hard worker.  He spent a good amount of time at the office which also made him a great provider.  Even though he worked hard, I had his attention whenever I needed it.  I never felt like his work was more important then me.  At 15 years old, I still crawled into his lap for a cuddle in the evenings while he was watching his shows.  His arms were always open.  His eyes always bright when he saw me.  My Dad always helped me when I needed it.  I can still see the poor guy trying to explain pre-cal to me at our kitchen table.  A losing battle, but he didn't give up.  He pushed me to do better/do more/be tougher/be more independent when I needed it.  He used to and honestly still tells me, "Meghan put your head down and push through.  You can do anything for (insert any amount of time here)." He taught me how to be resilient.  When I think of my Dad now, I think of this wonderful balance between total love and strong guidance.  I also think of him as one of my best friends.

No childhood is perfect.  Of course we had our own family struggles but at the end of the day (another phrase my Dad likes to use a lot) we were happy.  Blessed even.  So if I feel this way about my childhood and parents now, how will George and Clara feel about me when they are my age?

I know how I want them to feel about me. 

I want them to remember that I was there.  Fully present.  I didn't miss a beat.  I want them to remember how my eyes lit up when they entered a room.  I want them to remember that I made them feel safe and secure.  I want them to remember that I was a soft place to fall when they were hurting.  I want them to remember that I helped them when they needed it but at the same time I pushed them to do better, do more, be stronger, because I knew they could do it.  I want them to remember fun adventures and laughter surrounding them as children.  I want them to remember how special I made them feel.  I want them to remember that life is something to be lived with great friends and family surrounding them, loving them, encouraging them on their winding path.  And ultimately I want them to just feel completely accepted and overwhelmingly loved.

So how do I get there from here? 

That's the ultimate question as a parent.  Most days I collapse into bed at night thinking of things I could have done better or handled better.  When I should of let that little thing go or when I did let the little thing go I probably should have addressed it.  Maybe we should have gone to the park today instead of painting or watching a movie or playing in the sandbox or working on colors or (insert any activity here).  I question myself...constantly.  In some ways I think that is a good thing.  In some ways I think it means I am neurotic.  All I really know now is that most days I am doing the best that I can as a parent.   That I am loving them wholeheartedly.  That I am giving them structure and balance in their lives.  That I am dusting them off when they fall and encouraging them to try again.  That I am teaching them that life is sweeter when you are surrounded by those you love and those who love you.  I hope and wish and pray that this will get us to that lovely end result...happy memories of a mostly happy fulfilling childhood.