I Love You Too, Mom

I'm sure you've seen the poem that goes around every so often, something like "I love you comes in many different forms: Wear your seatbelt, did you eat, how are you sleeping?" 

We all have our own love languages, and we use them in so many different measures and words. Sometimes love is said out loud. Sometimes our language is a whisper. Sometimes it's just a quiet action.

One of my languages is making sure my kids have a different mom than I had. It's making sure they each have the specific mom they need in each moment, which can, and often does, change from one instant to the next. None of my boys have the same mom. They each require a different approach, a distinct touch, a separate expression. There's no cookie-cutter motherhood here. Part of my language is making sure I apologize and acknowledge when I've done wrong, then doing my very best to make sure it doesn't happen again. Another part of my language is making sure they not only hear "I love you," but they feel it somehow every day, several times a day. I want to ensure my kids know they are safe, no matter what. 

It sounds simple enough, but for someone who grew up with my own mother, it really isn't. 

Love doesn't need to be extravagant. That's one thing I've learned from my kids. I just want to throw my arms around them to let them feel my love. I want to feed them and water them (yes, I know you're supposed to feed them and water them--proverbially so, possibly--but let's just say it's a good thing they aren't plants...), I want them to know I'm here anytime they want to talk, I want to grow them and marvel at them. Most of all, I just want them to know how so very loved they are, and how incredibly grateful I am for them. I need them to know these things. 

I made you! I love you! Now, get over here and let me obnoxiously show you just how much!!!!

This morning, I saw a post on social media that read: "I've apologized for who I am more times than I've been hugged for it" (@unburied_eulogies, Instagram).

Oh BOY, did that hit HARD. Damn. 

After reading this, I had a chance for conversation with one of my kiddos; I read it to him, and said I hope I've hugged and loved him more than I've made him feel the need to apologize for himself. I told him I hope I praise him more, and love him more for he who he is, than I criticize him. 

I know I'm not a perfect mom (name one, I dare you). I know I've criticized when I should have praised,  I've punished when I should have given grace, I've yelled when I should have hugged. My maternal sins are plenty. I'm the engine of The Hot Mess Express--choo choo, y'all!

But this kid's response?

"I love you too, Mom."

This kid...

Oh my gosh--I mean, the tears flowed, the gratitude exploded, and the love just, well, that exploded too. My bursting heart was left in a heap on the floor. 

He sees me. He HEARS me. He gets it. He knows I'm human.

How did I get to have such wise, incredible, amazing kids? How did I get so lucky? 

This isn't the first time he's done this. 

I've read passages and posts, given lectures (both kind and harsh, both necessary), cried, laughed, listened, spoken from my heart, and asked questions.

Each time: "I love you too, Mom."