I was sitting on the couch rocking Tessie this evening when I turned on some music to sing to her. I never sing well, but I sing much better with someone accompanying me. A Carrie Underwood song came on, and as I sang along to it, Tessie started to get really relaxed and she just laid there staring into my eyes. I still get goose bumps thinking of the moment.
In my head I started laughing thinking that perhaps she was hearing Carrie Underwood sing and thought it was me. Perhaps that was why she all of a sudden became so peaceful.
But then I put away the self-deprecation for a second and I realized how utterly untrue that was. I realized that it doesn’t matter that my voice can send all the neighborhood dogs running for the exit. It doesn’t matter that people’s ears actually bleed when I try to hit a high note.
Nope. To her, all that mattered was that I was her mama, and my voice is the voice she remembers from the time before she could remember.
I have brief moments like these, moments of clarity when I realize how pure the love of my children is. But they are quick and few and far between. More likely, the script going through my head is one of coming up short. I play in my head all the ways I am failing my girls, all the things I do imperfectly for them, all the faults that I bring into our lives.
That’s a tiring head space to live in.
But then every now and then I get this epiphany. I realize that my children don’t matter if I’m pretty or not or if I have a lot of money. They don’t really care if I’m intelligent or witty, if I can cook well or if I can keep a house tidy.
While sometimes they might go looking for some of these trappings in me, deep down, all they really want is me.
And about who else could we possibly say that in life?
The world holds up a mirror and shows us our faults. Our little ones hold up a mirror and show us who we really are, weaknesses and all, and let us know that we are absolutely accepted despite it all.
I’m sure this will all change. I’m sure when I wake up and my girls are all teenagers, they will have a mighty detailed list of all the ways that I am failing them.
But still I like to think that deep inside, when you take all those wants away, what will be left is just a simple and pure desire to be with the one they knew first and the one who knows them best of all.
(And in the interest of full disclosure I guess I should mention that Tessie woke up as I was writing this and no amount of singing without the music would settle her down. So perhaps she really wanted Carrie after all. To which I say, sorry kid. You are stuck with me.)