My darling son wrote me a lovely letter for Mother’s Day. I love that kid. (I love his sister, too – she made me a beautiful sculpture of a flower out of a bar of Ivory Soap).
The content of his letter was (and I apologize to him in advance if sharing this is inappropriate):
I love that you do so much for me. I will never forget you are my mom. You will always be very special to me. I love that you make me smile. I love that you can do anything I want great. You will always work hard to get money for food so I don’t starve. You give me money for toys and games I don’t need but want. You get me presents for my birthday and for Christmas. You never make me do chores or extra work that you have to do. You always make me happy no matter what. You are a very hard worker. You never want more than what you have. You don’t ever need better than what you have. You will never complain at unreasonable things. You laugh a lot all of the time. You are the best.
Don’t get me wrong – I love this letter. I love that he can enumerate the things he loves about me. And most of them I feel good about.
It’s good that he won’t ever forget I am his Mom (whew).
I am glad I make him smile and I am able to do anything he wants. I am glad he notices that I laugh a lot and believes that I will not let him starve.
But a few things in there give me pause. Because while I do want to be grateful for what I have – and I am, for the most part, content – the idea that I don’t want more or better than what I have, and that I never complain, makes me sound kind of doormat-ish. Which is certainly NOT what I want.
I do want more. I do want better. For them as well as for me.
I might need to bump up my display of ambition. It’s in there, but I apparently need to get it out into the open a bit more.
And I should probably get my kids to do some chores!