on loving my boy, no matter what.

recently, i realized something about the impression i sometimes give about my little 4 year old mini-me.

when i talk about casey, i often lead with an apology. after all, he's rough and tumble. he's extraordinarily loud. he's uncontrollably emotional. and he thinks primarily with his stomach and his heart.

often this translates into numerous daytime breakdowns, uncontrollable crying, and time out after wretched timeout. there can be no denying that some days with casey are nothing short of brutal.

but the thing is, casey is also a boy who loves life. he's thoughtful. he remembers each and every kind word that's said. he thrives upon a compliment and he takes the kindness of others to heart. he believes you when you tell him that the drawing he made for you is the best you've ever seen and you should see how it makes his face shine. casey is passionate about the things that interest him and that boy loves me even more than i love myself.

true, he is my most challenging kid, but he's also delightful. and i adore him. i want to scoop him up and keep him with me forever because with me, he's safe and happy. but the day is coming soon when i won't be able to do that. he's headed to real-5-afternoon-a-week-ride-the-bus preschool next year and the thought sends me into emotional turmoil.

he'll be in a regular school where there are regular kids. kids who take his toys and make him angry. he'll have to listen to the teacher and participate just like everyone else and this is a very different picture from the one that's been painted for him thus far. and it makes me worry. the hardest part for me is that it makes him worry too.

he won't start school until late in september, but already we talk about it almost daily. i know he's going to make so many strides in his new school. i also know he'll make friends, he'll love his teacher, and the new surroundings will be nothing but good for him. but these are tricky concepts to teach a 4 year old boy who loves his routine, his life, and his mom. nervousness is a part of who he is and so my role will continue to be that of mom-rock. because he's gonna love it. he's going to be great because he is great. and i can't forget to remind him of that everyday so that when the time comes for him to board that bus, while he won't be able to see my face, he'll know that i'm right there with him. in his heart. telling him how awesome he is and that he can do it.

maybe equally important, i'm done with the apologies. my job is to be casey's biggest fan, not someone who explains his shortcomings. it strikes me that if someone's introduction of me consistently included an apology for all the things i'm not, it would be miserable. and unfair. and so i'll stop. and instead i'll fill your ears with all the wonderful things about my boy. because after all, he is wonderful.

at the end of the day, casey is who he is and no matter how many of my parental interventions i thrown at him during the day, he's still not going to be perfect. but the thing is, he's great anyway. and his imperfections feel eerily familiar, anyhow. he loves large and acts without thinking. he wants what he wants and when he doesn't get it, he crashes hard. he's so much of me, and if he loves me the way i am, then the least i can do is return the favor.