It’s after nine o’clock, and I’m still waiting for Marc and Jessica to come home. I know that Marc desperately needs to work out, and he still went up to Maine to rescue our little girl. Four hours up, four hours back, that’s a LONG day driving, and he had things he really needed to do today. But he still offered to go, and went without complaining, and I’ve been thinking today about what that must have been like for Jessie. To turn around and suddenly see her Daddy and know that she could come home. How happy she must have been, how safe and loved she must feel right now…
We all come into parenting with our own baggage, and God knows I have my fair share. I didn’t have a dad who rescued me. Maybe he wanted to – I don’t think he had bad intentions – but parenting is hard, and he bailed out. And I had a mom who loved me, loved me, loved me, but also had to share her with three younger siblings. I don’t ever remember being scared or feeling lost and alone and being saved by my parents. I’m sure that my mother must have saved me a bunch of times – because she was really a great parent, but I grew up early and fast because I had to. I would have sucked it up, I would have not wanted to make my mom feel bad because I was scared. I felt an enormous responsibility to take some of the weight off of her shoulders. I wouldn’t have added to it by giving into homesickness and crying. My mother didn’t have a husband that would drop everything and drive eight hours to save me.
Lucky, lucky Jessica. And lucky, lucky me – because my husband is amazing.
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