About to call it a day, I walk softly into my son's room instead of my own and smile to see him peacefully sprawled. Climbing into the small bed, I smooth curls off his sweaty forehead, inhale deeply, whisper "I love you." He stirs, rolls over. My heart bursts. How do I get so caught up in the busy that I miss the point entirely? Today had some challenging moments when this little boy was far less angelic, was pushing buttons, rude and reckless, cooped up inside and done cooperating. Wearing the blinders of my own agenda, I did damage control and struggled to change the frequency. I did my best. There were connected moments. It doesn't feel good enough. How can I be more what he needs tomorrow? 

First of all, I should be sleeping already. Patience is always scare on an empty tank and morning is going to come too soon. The baby stirs in the next room, calling me to my own bed. First I'll kiss this boy, who will no doubt have found his way to my side by morning. I'll plant a resolution in my heart to choose joy tomorrow even when I'm exhausted, to savour the sweet parts and rise above the challenges, because he is the point and not the obstacle. He is a gift, even when he's being an ass, and those big red buttons are how he asks for help. Tomorrow, curl up and read him a book before launching into the work of the day. Fill his tank first, then grind the coffee. Let tomorrow be brand new. 

Is there anything familiar about this pep talk? Is anyone else up too late? Did you say anything to your kid today that you wish you could un-say? Were there moments of pure joy? I want to choose the joy more. Maybe first I should choose sleep...

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