Our son’s birthday party was this weekend.
Let me just say that he spent the whole day naked.
At one point there were 6 naked 2 year old in the tiny pool. There is no better sight in the world.
I made another incredible cake (topping last years). A grassy knoll, covered with marzipan leaves, snails, toadstools and other creatures. It was truly amazing. I will upload an image later.
I was filled with awe yesterday. I think we are actually doing a good job. We may, in fact, be good parents, raising a happy, well adjusted, secure child. Who knew?
My childhood was so messed up: alcoholic dad, poor, lots of screaming, my mom and I on our own most of the time. I marvel sometimes that I ended up with someone and lovely and KIND to me as S. I totally expected to marry an asshole (and a man), to repeat the family pattern I grew up in. In truth, this healthy relationship with S did not just happen. It is a great deal of hard work for both of us to maintain a great relationship, and many years of therapy later I am starting to like myself.
And now I get to marvel at having a great child. Not just because he was born that way, but because we nurture him. We love him, cuddle him, tell him how brave he is. Tell him it is ok to cry. We let him wear skirts, even though neither of us do, despite the fact that people will think it is because he is being raised by women. We let him have feelings. We set limits.
We love him to the moon and back.
I am having another day when I know that being moms is the best thing we have even done, and the fucked up parts are worth it.