The Right Kind of Mentor
I have a mentor in life that has been challenging my views of the world and helping me sort through all the bull shit in hopes of finding true relationships and true happiness. And when we look for mentors, we want someone to challenge the everyday things and then give us strength in those really challenging moments. I was lucky enough to find that perfect person, actually I created that person. Emerson, my mentor, a person who is a better version of me. The person who has taught me more lessons than imaginable, the person who taught me to love not only through the happy times but he taught me to love when I was so mad I didn’t know I could do both at the same time.
This amazing little person is 11-years-old. At least once a week he has, “the best day ever.” I watch him with excitement as he runs down the new best day ever. I look as his eyes light up and his heart just pops through that little body. He can light up an entire village just by being present. And don’t get me wrong, this kid doesn’t have it easy. He has struggles that challenge him on all levels. With his highs come his lows, and with that smile comes tears and tantrums. But honestly, even though it is hard sometimes, its another reason this kid is my mentor. I need to have more “best days.” I need to cry more and laugh until I pee my pants more. I don’t want to live my life in the middle. I need to live closer to the edges. If you don’t know what the lows feel like how will you even know the feelings of the highs. This kid is becoming a master in feelings.
Parenting is really fucking hard. It is non stop. I am responsible for raising two little people, instilling values and qualities in them. The worst, hardest part is, I was the perfect mom before I had kids. I knew what every parent was doing wrong and I knew how to fix it. And then I had one of my own and I got my ass handed to me. Everything that was so right became so wrong. And as I fumble through the imperfections of parenthood, I hear “you are beautiful.” This guy sees me at my worst, he sees me when I’m in the bathroom, as I’m waking up, he sees me struggling through a workout, he sees me stressed out, mad, sad. But he still sees me as beautiful. Whenever I hear that I stand a little taller and feel a little lighter.
Every night as I tuck him into bed he says “I love you Mommy,” and gives me a kiss. No matter how bad of a day we had, or how many melt downs we both had, he never holds back his love. I am learning to say “I love you,” more often. Even when I am mad or hurt, I still say it because I mean it and I know this kid has a lot more to teach me, I better keep on pace.