I am not the mother I want to be. I fail daily. I fail most when it comes to Ruthie. I have heard people say you tend to be harder on your daughters if you are a mother, and harder on your sons if you are a father. I guess I fall into that category. Last night, I realized what a crappy mother I have been. Yes, I have taught her right from wrong and how to love the Lord. However, I wonder if she knows how special she is to me. I learned last night, she doesn't. After church we grabbed some dinner. Randall took Randy to slop the hogs, while Ruthie and I headed home. I want her to get a good night of rest on school nights. As I tuck her in, she says, "Mommy, will you snuggle with me?" I just told her I needed to get some stuff finished and that I couldn't. My house is a complete and utter mess. I have a million loads of laundry to fold and put away. I have about 7 loads of dirty blankets to wash. I need to do the dishes. I need to sweet, mop, and vacuum. I need to clean the toilet. I need to figure out what to pack for her b/c she is about to head to Florida this next week. I have photos to edit from my nephew's wedding. I have homework that needs to be finished.
As I walk off, I just hang my head and think to myself, what kind of mother am I. She is seven. She is an adult in eleven years. Almost as long as I have had her. Why can't I take time out and just snuggle my baby girl?
I stop what I am doing, head back to her room and crawl into bed with her. The smile on her face tells me I did the right thing. However, there is more she needs. She doesn't just need my company, but she needs to hear words of affection. See, Ruthie is like me. She needs affection. She needs reminders she is important. Have I helped her in this area? Not near as much as I should have. As we snuggle together, I just feel the need to tell her just how much she means to me.
I told her how I have loved her the moment I knew she was in my womb. I told her of how she made me a mother. She is my first born.
I told her how she looks just like her Daddy with the perfect Qualls nose and beautiful lips. I told her my favorite physical feature she has is her dark brown eyes, b/c they are just like mine.
I told her of how she was such a fun little baby with so much personality. She loved to stand on her head with her hiney in the air and leap like a frog.
How she loved to wear her boots just like her Daddy and play in the dirt.
I told her of how she was shy around everyone. She loved to be around Mommy and Daddy. She never wanted to talk to strangers. I told her how she would usually cry when it was time to be dropped off at daycare, but when time came for Kindergarten, she was just fine and kept asking me if I was going to cry. I told her I cried all the way to work that day.
I told her how she is so much like her Daddy when she gets nervous b/c she is all smiles. Her Daddy is the same way. She giggled when I told her to think about how much he smiles when he's preaching. It's b/c he is nervous.
I told her how every moment with her has been amazing, but the best moment of all was when she asked Jesus into her heart. I told her how I had been praying she would soon be ready and the moment she looked at me with tears in her eyes I knew she was ready. I told her how one day I will be waiting on her in Heaven so we can walk the streets of gold together.
As I tell her all this, she is sobbing in my arms. I asked her why she was crying and she told me it was b/c I made her feel so special. That's when I broke down. She doesn't feel special. I have failed. She is more special to me than she will ever know. I guess I just haven't told her enough. I haven't hugged her enough. I haven't kissed her enough. She is my daughter. The one God has trusted me to raise. I need to wake up and put my priorities straight. I need to let me daughter know she is everything to me. I would do anything for her. I love her to the ends of the earth. I need to put the phone down, put the camera down, get off the computer, quit reading, and just enjoy my babies. I need to put myself aside and let them have their mommy.
When Randall came home, I broke down on him as well. I told him I failed. He looked at me, told me I haven't failed b/c we still have her. I am thankful to have a man like him. I just need to step it up and be the parent God has intended me to be. All these worldly things don't matter. What matters? My children matter. I am a mother. A mother who isn't perfect, but is learning day by day. A mother who has a wonderful God to help teach her how to be a parent.
