Delicate

My stomach is in knots. The look in those big brown eyes. I can't stand for that look to be crushed. The sheer hope that lay deep within there...

My sweet girl told me that her friend said that they were going to have a playdate on Friday. She didn't ask me if she could have a playdate with her like she usually does, she told me that the friend had said it was going to happen. And that look in her eyes when she told me. It made my stomach twist with the insecurities of childhood. Did the friend really want her to come over? Or did she just casually toss the idea out and Claire clung on to it, so excited that she was being invited, accepted by this girl? Don't break my sweet girl's delicate heart. I've seen her at recess a few times, off by herself kicking rocks while all the other kids play around her. Is that just normal kindergartner behavior? Don't they all play by themselves sometimes?

Please don't hurt my baby.

How to Be

I've just realized, from a few different experiences, that I don't think of myself as a teacher to my children. I mean, generally, of course, I know I teach my children things, but when I think of my role and relationship with them I don't think of a teacher. I think of being someone who loves them and helps them, but not necessarily teaches them.  This strikes me as odd.  Isn't that an obvious role I should see myself in as a mother?  Especially when my mother was as much a teacher as she was a breather.  Shouldn't that be my obvious natural response when I find myself a mother, to be a teacher?  I guess not.  But, I definitely feel (and seem to have been prompted) that I need to be and view myself as more of a teacher for my children.  I don't necessarily think that means I need to teach them their ABCs and such, although that's part of it, but I need to teach them how to be, be a good person, be a kind person, be a smart person, be a righteous person.  Food for thought...