Sitting here on her floor, leg extended gently bouncing while she leans against said leg, fighting sleep, my thoughts drifted. We were well into the second hour of one of those bedtime routines that’s had you pull out all the tricks and patience,twice.

As my stamina was wavering and patience already more wore than an old Baptist’s Bible pages my thoughts wandered to the copious amounts of energy, attention and effort this small being required. And how, from the stories my own ma told of me as a young one, I was probably the same. And how there’s no wonder why I have a hard time speaking my desires or feeling as if my needs are at an equal level as those that occupy the room with me.

You see as I lay there helping my youngest navigate herself to slumber I realized I had a choice. I could take the “easier” route in raising her and yell, punish, withhold to get her to comply and learn that our, the adults, needs were greater.

Or I could take the current route and provide space and attention and help her learn who she is and what she needs and how to navigate the world at her highest expression

Undoubtedly the former route is how I was treated. My parents were children themselves and I would imagine it’s how they were treated. “They knew what they knew.”

So as this insight took hold the realization that so much of the interior bits I struggle with started here for me a wave of resolve washed over me. I would. I could do better.

And as this occurred my little one crawled onto my lap, laying her head on my chest. Which in itself would’ve been confirmation. But then she reached up with her buddy. You know the one, the one that goes everywhere she goes and god forbid it can’t be found, the one she loves like family. That buddy. She reached up with her buddy and rubbed him on my cheek before pulling him back to her chest to nuzzle. Again, confirmation that I was on the right path. My body settled with her weight on me and the world felt good.

As this emotion washed over me she reached up finding my jaw line and ran her hand through my beard. Then as she tapped my cheek she looked at me and with her eyes she said “silly daddy now you get it”

I cried

An overwhelming surge boiled up from my soul an understanding that I can do better.

And I’m doing alright

That I can be more

And I’m enough

And I wept. Deep, breath taking tears streaming down my face kind of weeping. I started to worry that I was going to disturb the now almost asleep toddler. But she sank deeper into me, her breath deepening and body growing limp

I let myself feel a lot of those emotions I learned to lock away as a child. I recognized my ability to change myself and give my daughter a chance to grow up a little differently.

And she slept

That is until the dog decided to fuckshit up and we had to start all over again.

This time though I had a little more patience & empathy. After all, I had realized I get to give her the things I needed