That term has taken on a whole new meaning since having children. I used to think it only applied to love lost. Now it feels like every time I turn around my is breaking sometimes just a crack and sometimes into a million tiny pieces.
My oldest son, who just turned 8, will run his first 5K today. He is so nervous - he'd be more nervous running it with me I can tell you that! He would have to be concerned with carrying his mother across the finish line. But to see him break down as they left, he came back to bury his head in my chest and cry, has left me feeling so empty. Crack, Crack, Crack.
He's also nervous about our summer trip and came down at 10:30 last Saturday night to tell us he had a bad dream. He dreamt that he had to get on the plane by himself, then the world ended while he was on the plane, and well- sum it up to say it went on. Shatter!
There is nothing more I want to do than to lean down, scoop him up, and tell him nothing bad will ever happen to him. If I could wrap him in my arms and protect him forever, would that be long enough? People warn you, that it just gets harder. Rocking away colic, kissing skinned knees, mediating temper tantrums (well that really hasn't stopped yet) seems like so long ago.
I know that he will be fine. At least I hope, and wish, and pray as I sit here typing.
Dear God, please watch over my baby today. Help him get through the nerves and the race without fighting with his dad. Let him be light as air and not be weighed down because he didn't poop this morning. Let him be agile like the gazelle and not trip and fall because his shoes are never tied properly. Let him be fortified with your spirit because he didn't eat the special oatmeal I made at 10:00 last night and there is still a bowl of apples on the table. Oh for goodness sake just let him cross the finish line!
See - this is why his mom stays home!
hi...
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