A Rarity

I bought my family flowers. At the grocery store. I can't remember the last time I did that.  Probably because I have done it about, oh............ twice. But I tell you what, it really felt good. The girls wondered what they were for. They looked at me like "what is the special occasion?".
Reasoning. I don't feel like I need them, but hey, here are a couple:

I love you.
I loved our walking and talking Wednesday night.
I love that you loved it, too. You made it a point to tell me so.
I love that our mornings have been wonderful.
I love that our rainboots have been getting muddy.
I love it that you, little women, are still wanting to share a room.
I love it that you, the Mr., are laughing more.

I love it.


Me and Her. Her and Me.

We are raising two girls. I call them "the little women". I have called them that since, well, I don't remember when. I enjoyed that little moniker up until about a week ago. The Mr. and I were talking about our Ainzli. She will be 11 the end of May. She is 5'2'. She weighs 95lbs. She has pimples. She gets really greasy hair. She wears a side pony tail all the time, like maybe they will outlaw them! She will only wear jogging pants on gym day. It is so bad, that if there are none clean she will fluff dirty ones in the dryer. She wears a size 8 shoe (actually the sandals I just bought her were 9's, I am telling you, they ran big!)
Anyway, there is a little bit about her.
Back to the Mr. and I. We are talking. We were reminiscing. He was saying he is ready for the next few years. I believe him. He is a great dad. We are talking out of this world. He was put on this earth to raise girls. Fast forward. We are entering uncharted territory (for us, at least). Territory you think is so far away, but let me tell you, it isn't.
So........... to the guts of my confession.
Me and Her.
Her and Me.
We are not on the same plane. She and I. She gets really, really mad at me. Like really mad. And if I am being honest, I get mad at her.
Sometimes I stop and think "oh my gosh, what am I doing wrong. Why did I say that?  Why did I keep pushing? Please Lord, don't let her ever, and I mean EVER, think I don't love her. Please don't let her ever stop loving me, because, I can be very unlovable."
She stomps those size 8 feet and I think she is trying to drill a hole in the floor. Or she clenches her teeth and does this "uugghh" sound.  I am not a total idiot in her eyes, but not far.
I say things sarcastically. This is a fatal flaw of mine. I mean fatal. I loath it about myself. I am trying to be more aware.

But here. Here is where I find my ground.
We are sitting on the couch and her size 8 feet go on my lap. She loves my foot rubs. And I love to give them. She doesn't go to sleep easily if I have not kissed her and tucked her in. She tells me things. She tells me things I would not have thought to talk to my mom about. We talk about friends. We talk about the girl who is consistently mean to her. We talk.
We pray together. She likes to say her own prayers, but I sit right in there with her.
I say I am sorry. When I have crossed the line. I say I am sorry.
I tell her that everything I do I am doing my best to prepare her for life.
I believe most of the time she gets it.
We say I love you. We say love you so much. We say love you to the moon.
I pray that my love will cover a multitude of sins.
Ultimately, I know Gods love will cover us both.
And that is all I have to say about that.