This time last year I had major surgery (a story for another time). While all is well now thankfully, it was a rough time in our house. Despite my best planning efforts, it felt like everything was falling apart.
The house was a mess, the laundry was piling up, and even worse, my kids were losing it on a daily basis.
I repeatedly assured them that I would be fine, that I was getting better every day as they piled into my bed each night for their bedtime stories and gentle hugs and kisses.
Even so, they were melting down, having big emotions about things that would not normally warrant such large reactions from them.
Sometime during recovery, and especially once I was up and getting back in the swing of things, I realized that as I got better, so did they. As I returned to acting like myself, so did they.
The realization hit me that for this brief moment in time, these early years of their lives, I am the sun and the moon to them.
I know this time is fleeting. I know this role is sacred.
If I go dark, they lose their way.
And while I had felt the pressures of this role, maybe I had not yet seen the beauty of it. The honor of this temporary, important position. A position that requires that I be here, where they need me, but also that I be here as my best self – physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
How I show up and take care of myself directly affects how I care for them.
I know one day it will shift. And if I do my job right, the day will come when I will no longer be the center of their universe, and they will no longer need me to be.
