My Mothers Eyes.

When I was near the end of my pregnancy someone asked me if I hoped WB would have blue eyes like me. It dawned on me that I had not had the thought of what I hoped he would get from me, I knew he would be handsome like his daddy, we could tell that from the ultra sounds but I had never put much thought into what I hoped I would pass to him.  My mother has blue eyes and her mother had blue eyes. When WB was born he had the newborn blue eyes but they became more crystal blue and looked more like mine. My mom use to say she felt like she was looking grandma Johnson in the eyes when she looked at him. He has such soul in his eyes, you can hear his laughter looking in his eyes without even hearing him laugh. One time someone was trying their best to describe my mom when they said she laughs more at her own jokes than anyone else's, my mom getting tickled at the punch line before she even gets it out  is prime example, but her laugh is contagious, it is healing and priceless, just like my sons. She use to kid me and say I had to have 5 kids to have a blonde hair blue eyed girl, I don't really care if WBs eyes change even though they are still as blue as mine, because I know he has gotten so much more than blue eyes from me. I know I am impatient and moody sometimes and sometimes, okay a lot of the time I say dumb things, but I also know this, I am happy... Truly happy and I know I pass that on to my son, I like the sound of my laughter and I don't think that's conceited, I think it keeps me sane and my skin thick and I'm 100% okay with passing my laughter on to him. I can laugh at myself, and in today's world that's important, sometimes laughing breaks the tension. I am loving and free and my heart really can be broken easily but I will also teach him that it is okay to be sensitive but to not let the world walk over him but I hope that the good that can come from me doesn't have to be taught but can be seen, so often you hear parents accuse their parents or say they will never do things like them, or they are afraid of becoming them, but I am not, though like me my mother is impatient or sometimes misunderstood, she is beautiful and gracious. I am not afraid of becoming her because she showed me good and taught me good and I became me not her, I look in the mirror and I see my mothers eyes and I am reminded of who she hoped I would become and I know I make her proud, I hope I can do the same for WB, that when he looks in the mirror he sees my eyes and is reminded of who I am and that I am and will always be proud of who he is. 

" I've watch it over the years grow and grow. 

 I've seen it and all it has to show. 

I am Amazed in its glory, amazed at it's knowledge. 

I see It is giving, and willing, and so full of heritage. 

It has Beauty and patience

It is a Teacher, caregiver,  a cook of brilliance. 

It can be Fragile and sensitive but strong and willed. 

I laid next to it and then upon it and then I left with my part of it. 

I was invested in it, 

Prayed for and stored there. 

I was given hope from it, and peace. I was overwhelmed with loved that was offered and shared from it. 

I have watched the broken tears fall from it, the happy tears stream from it. I have watched it kiss a grandchild's face 

I have seen it sick and frail but I have seen it rise above and hold it's place. 

I have seen it question and guilt itself.  Blame itself. I have seen it love kids that weren't its own, I have seen it love antiques, whatnots and golden books that fill the shelf.

I have heard it's stories, every beat, every beat of it's stories....

I have seen the things it is capable of. I have seen it beat.  Please oh please tell me you know, tell me you have witness, that you have held the pulse of my mothers soft hands? That you know my mothers heart? I have and I always will. I do everyday, because it beats inside of me."

 

Happy Mother's Day 

To my one and only. 

I am thankful God chose you as my mother, I love you.