"So, Andrew, if you want to be a fireman, be a fireman - but do it well."
"If you want to be a rock star, be a rock star, but do it well."
Andrew was listening to every word his father said. Sometimes I question whether he really is "hearing" us; but not at the dinner table on Sunday night. And the reason I know this is because when his father had finished his statement, Andrew responded with, "if I want to be Batman, I can do that?!"
Hell, yea, Andrew. You be Batman. Just make sure you do it well.
God damn that's awesome. It's awesome that Andrew thinks he can grow up to be Batman. It's awesome that he was listening to what we were saying to him. And it's awesome to even hear those words come out of his mouth.
I worry all the time. I'm not sure if it just happens because I'm a mom or it's in my nature to be a worrier, but I worry all the time. I worry that I'm not spending enough time with my children; I worry that the time I spend with my children isn't enough "quality" time. I worry that I'm worrying so much that it's going to cause me to die and miss some really important things in my children's lives. It's just so stupid.
And Davis. That Davis.
He's ready to sit on the potty. He knows when he has to go. He knows what it means to have to go. It's just going to take us taking the time to get it done. To put him in big-boy underwears and get him familiar with the feeling and more and more used to it.
So, as Andrew puts it, Davis is ready to get on the potty train. Because Andrew is already a potty train. Now it's Davis's turn.
One of, if not, the proudest moment I have as a mom is the fact that Andrew is potty trained. I worry (again) that Davis isn't going to take to it like Andrew did and we're going to be cleaning his dirty underwear that he's had an accident in until he's 6. That will kill me. My fingers are crossed.
I wish someone had informed me that being a mother, while rewarding and amazing and heartbreaking and joyful, was also not easy at all.