Don't water too much...

At one level I have good stories of Mother's Day yesterday. Cuppa tea in bed from my children, then out for breakfast with my Mum, tulips and gifts. In a twist of fate my Dad came to stay with us for one night and it just happened to be on Mother's Day. Amazing how having divorced parents can still bite - even at the age of 37. So this meant I couldn't spend the day with my Mum, who is, by the way, the example of the most giving, wonderful, awe-inspiring, loving mothers one could ever hope for or design.

So we had a family lunch nevertheless, without my Mum but with my Dad and my husband's family. All well and good, until I heard myself utter some words to Boo about her table manners that were so laced with disappointment and put-down that the moment they left my lips, I regretted it. In my sideways view I noticed her face etch with shame and oh my goodness, if I could have taken back what I said in that instant I would have. She covered her face. I wanted to cover mine. On Mother's Day of all days.

I do sometimes hold too high standards for her, and I need to stop that. My heart aches now a day later...for even though in the scheme of things it was a minor thing, a mere comment; what it represents to me is the pressure that I don't want her to feel. I don't want to be one of those mothers who layer on subtle pressures day after day; ones that knit together to form a blanket of weight on her little shoulders.

So I am afraid, on this sunny Monday I am feeling kinda sad and pensive...water a little and it will grow; water too much and the plant wilts.

via are so happy