Be Still My Beating Heart

"Owieeeeeeeee." (insert whine)

"You have an owie? Where?"

"Owieeeeeeeeeeeee." (pointing to a toe) "Owwwiee."

"What happened sweetheart? How'd you get an owie?"

"Kiss." (pause) "I need kiiiisssssssss."

I think my heart grew three sizes.

As a mother, I know theoretically that my parenting, my actions, my words, my *everything* molds my children into who they will become. I am the one teaching them how to react, how to emote, how to respond, and ultimately how to live and be.

I know this all in my head.

When it comes full circle and you see the results of something small and innocent - like kissing an owie to make it all better - it's like a mountain has moved because you whispered to it.

Does that make any sense??

I've made a point of telling my son that I can kiss his owies better. When he has a bump or a scratch, I *always* tell him, "Let Momma kiss it. All better now!" There have been times when I've kissed an owie and he's responded, "All bettaaahhhh." But this morning he asked for the Magic Momma Kiss because he knew it would make it better. Be still my beating heart.

While on the inside I'm doing the Happy Momma Dance and feeling incredibly validated as a mother, I'm also holding at bay that tiny little voice that wonders what will happen when the owie is too big or too emotional for Momma to kiss it all better.

But for now, I'm so happy to revel in my current triumph and I'll deal with the "later-stuff" later.