Promises We Make

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant, and how scared and excited I felt. I didn't know how Steve was going to react, we had only been together around 2 months, how my parents were going to react, they didn't even know I was dating anyone.

I remember that once it all calmed down and I knew that we were in this together and my parents would eventually forgive me, and all would be okay, and how I would hold my stomach and make promises to the tiny fetus growing inside me.

"I promise to listen to you" I would say, and I meant it. I wanted to hear her every hope, dream and fear. I wanted to make it about her, and not about me, I wanted to listen and her want to talk.

"I promise to play with you" and I meant that too. I dreamed of making up games and dancing at the park while playing princesses and exploring the forest we turn into a fairy land.

"I promise to teach you" I would say. I would plan all the amazing projects we would do, and gardens we would plant and questions she would ask, I wouldn't always have answers but we would explore them together.

I held her inside me and whispered these promises to her, to myself, and dreamed about the day she would be on the outside ready to help me realize those promises.

She is on the outside now and has been for 4 and a half years and I find myself wondering whether I have kept any of these promises.

I tell her to be quiet so often, sometimes yelling it and not recognizing my own voice. She talks incessantly, about nothing, saying the same things over and over again, and it isn't how I imagined it.

The clever back and forth, enlightening questions, discovery and education, all of it, its so...not like I imagined it.

I promised her, and I don't know how to keep those promises anymore.

Movies make it look so simple, good moms, bad moms, crazy moms. The good moms have these cool, well adjusted kids that ask questions without asking them over and over, and they believe the answers the moms give them.

The bad moms have kids that run around crazy, screaming and farting and saying swears.

The crazy mom's over plan, over schedule, over worry, over coddle, all that excessiveness you see and you laugh at and you secretly wonder if you do too.

What if I'm not any of those, and what if my kid isn't any of those kids? What if I don't know how to be a good mom and raise a good kid.

What if I can't stop yelling at her and telling her to be quiet and what if i'm too tired to answer her questions and play with her forever? What if her childhood sucks and its because I'm too tired and my fuse is too short?

Those promises I made 4 years ago weigh on me every time I yell and every time I send her to bed without a song or story.

Some things I can promise; I will always feel guilty for not keeping the promises I made, and I will always have the best of intentions.

I promise to watch her sleep and always let her climb in our bed.

I promise to take a day off work for no reason sometimes and have a fun day for no reason other than I love her and it sounds like a good idea.

I promise to try and find at least one hour everyday to talk to her about her day or play cards or read a story, or something that she wants to do just becuase she wants to do it.

Maybe I'm making myself feel better by amending my promises, I don't know, maybe I'm just setting more reasonable goals, maybe I can just dismiss the last 4 years and start fresh for the next 4.