It’s Not You. It’s me.

November 12, 2015

Dear Little Loves,

I know I’ve been tough on you lately. There has been a LOT of yelling and shaking of the head on my part. And I just realized something…

It’s not you. It’s me.

When you dump every last toy (that was neatly organized into bins by type) onto the carpet, then mix them together, hide some under the couch and beneath the cushions, shove them into nooks and crannies that I never knew existed and I get mad. MAD (!!!) I am sorry.

It’s not you. It’s me.

When you rip every last piece of clothing out of your drawer and leave them scattered on the floor only to find your favorite jersey and bolt outside to play with your friends leaving the mess behind and I YELL and SCREAM and threaten that you better get back up here or else…… I’m sorry.

It’s not you. It’s me.

When I call you in for dinner and you don’t come because you are busy in your own little world and I get frustrated.

It’s not you. It’s me.

When you wrestle with your brothers, and scream and roll around on the floor, banging into this and that, and inevitably ending in tears (or blood) and I stomp my feet and tell you “I told you to stop rough housing NOW LOOK WHAT YOU’VE done!!” I’m sorry.

It’s not you. It’s me.

You see, when I first became a mom I had this vision of what raising kids was supposed to look like. There I was in my dream, happily making dinner while you sat at the table. You were coloring and humming softly. Your room was neat and tidy and everything had it’s place. You and your siblings danced around the living room together laughing and truly enjoying each other’s company. And giggling. There was lots of giggling in my dream.


My reality looks nothing like this. While I hurriedly make dinner you and your brothers are wrestling. Or you are dumping toys or running around the house with light sabers crashing into furniture and walls and screaming at the top of your lungs words that I am never sure I will truly understand. And 99% of the time, these antics end in tears or tattling, or worse… both.

But I’ve come to realize that my dream of what my life with kids would look like is clouding my ability to truly enjoy you for who you are.

You are loud, rambunctious, spirited, passionate, curious… full of life and energy. And sitting at the table drawing quietly, humming, well, it just isn’t your thing. And that’s okay.

So it’s not you. It’s me.

As a mom, I need to let some things go. Life is a little messier, a little louder, a little crazier, a little more chaotic and stressful that it was in my dream. But sometimes a slight change in perspective is all we need.

When you make a mess of your toys, you are exploring. 

When you wrestle your brothers, you are bonding. (apparently it’s a boy thing)

When you don’t come when I call for dinner, your mind is working. You have interests and care about things.

When you run around the house with light sabers knocking into walls and furniture, you have energy, and spirit, and imagination. 

When you punch your brother in the back, you are showing that you have strength. (Totally kidding. You punch your brother and you will have no dessert for a week).

But in all seriousness, this is the season of thankfulness and being grateful. And for all that you are, I couldn’t love you more.

Okokok….so a liiiittle less fighting would be nice.

But wow. How lucky am I?

I love you so much more than my dream.



  • Rachel
    November 13, 2015 at 3:07 pm

    Love this, Lin! And your kids.. just they way they are!

  • Judy
    November 13, 2015 at 9:45 pm

    So beautiful … “I love you so much more than my dream.”

don’t miss a post

powered by chloédigital