Long story short…Drew was a total b-tt to me this evening. So I let daddy read him his bedtime story, then I came around at the end of prayers to kiss him goodnight. Cuz even when you’re a whatever, you get a goodnight kiss.
Still sitting in his daddy’s lap, he sheepishly looked over his shoulder at me, got up, and crept over. “Will you pray?” he whispered.
Of course I did, and prayed he’d be a big strong man and a man after God’s own heart…just what Mom always prayed for my baby brother, the one who got married last week.
Even when we’re b-tts, our foremothers prayed for us, and hopefully it made us more likable…because they were trying to like us because of how much they loved us. Our mothers, grandmothers, aunts, teachers…all the women who made us who we are. The struggle to look after us made them closer to God, and then we became mothers or teachers or big sisters or aunts, and all of a sudden we got it and felt closer to them.
I had another post written for International Women’s Day, but then I kissed my son goodnight, and realized that I am the first woman he ever met. I want him to WANT to marry a woman who’s a little like me, not spend his life trying to run from the idea.
So that’s my post, ladies and gentlemen. I have plenty of complicated female heroes (Katherine of Aragon, Mulan, that chicken from Disney’s Robin Hood, my mom), and I’ve got political opinions, but the child I raise and send into the world is my biggest contribution to the health of society.
…and to his future wife, know I did my best.
Happy March 8, grownups.