Get Back Up, Redux

It’s me in need of a pep talk this time.  I did the brave thing, and though my quest fell short, I did the brave thing and felt not one twinge of regret.  I promised myself I would keep it real–I would only say things that represented my core beliefs, no fake BS answers, no saying what I thought people wanted to hear. Within reasonable parameters, I projected the authentic me, and was pleased with my performance. (No, I didn’t use the f-word!  What kind of mom do you think I am?  Oh yeah, we’ve long established that I am exactly that kind of mom–I didn’t curse! Pinky swear I didn’t)  I felt no regrets. Until I did.  No, not regret, but a wish that I could have done more, more to secure something financially significant for my sons. I did not succeed.  Are we supposed to sacrifice our integrity for our kids’ greater good?  I think not, still I think not.  How else do we teach our children that character counts but through our words and deeds?  How else do we teach our children to be truthful but by example?  Still, I wasn’t enough, and my heart feels heavy that I failed them.  So I will get back up per Ed Robertson’s expert lyrical advice.  Ya gotta.

Today was another OT appointment, and my sweet boy worked his ass off. He could have given up–it was HARD–but again he persevered.  I made it all the way back to the car before getting glassy-eyed, but this time they were mostly tears of joy having witnessed his effort.  I didn’t know my kid had it in him.  He’s avoided difficult physical effort in the past, and when we thought he’d grow out of it, that was OK.  He won’t.  Grow out of it, that is.  So watching him charge forward, lying to his therapist saying “it’s not hard, it’s OK, I’m not tired,” knowing that he knows too is wonderful. And awful.


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