And so it goes

Hand in sticky hand

Sometimes this is how it is.

This past Saturday we were on our way home from my 6-year old's T-ball game. This day the snack for the team were mini-cupcakes in honor of a coach's birthday, and since they had a few extra the 1-year old got one as well. Although he ate it as well as a 1-year old can eat a cupcake - icing first of course - he ended up with crumbs down his front and all over his sticky hands. As we were nearing home, he reached up for my hand. I looked at his little hand. It was sticky with melted icing, covered with chocolate mini-cupcake crumbs. But it was reaching out for me. So I took his hand and we walked.

Hand in sticky hand.

Sometimes this is how it is.

Kids are messy, and that just comes with the territory. I am imperfect, and I was considering not taking his hand because of how sticky and messy it was. I took his hand anyway, and I am glad that I did. That's all he wanted. Not a judgement on the cleanliness of his shirt or his hands, not for me to shove my adult behaviors and norms on him. He just wanted to hold my hand and walk for a little while. This was time I was never going to get back. Those big brown eyes, that wispy blonde hair, and those tiny little hands will soon turn two, then three, then more, and this moment will not come back around for me.

Of course, as soon as we got home both of us washed hands and got ourselves wiped up, but that is not the point. I realized that he - and my 6-year old - need me to accept them just how they are. Imperfections and all. So that is my challenge now, and I and sure for the rest of my life. To accept my kids for the persons that they are, and not the persons I think they should be or want them to be. I do not expect this to be easy - in fact I KNOW it is not easy. I stumble over this point over and over again, mostly because my children are stumbling over and over again - trying to figure out who they are in this big wide world of ours. It's not my job to make them into me. That would be doing them a disservice. My job, instead, is to help them find their way to themselves. None of us know where that is, but here we are - hand in sticky hand - walking towards it anyway.