Last night I was telling my daughters that we needed to buy some trees for the backyard of our new house. I love trees. My favorites are magnolia and pine. I grew up in Louisiana so that should be no surprise.
I was telling the girls about the first home the ex and I owned way before we had children. We bought and planted a magnolia tree in the backyard that I nurtured like a mother. I loved that tree and was often out watering it or talking to it or measuring its growth. When we sold the house, I actually wanted to take the tree with me! I didn't, of course, but bid it farewell.
Deep into the first summer after we'd moved out of that house, I had a dream that my magnolia tree was telling me that it was thirsty and felt like it was dying. I actually woke up crying and hysterical. My husband reassured me that the tree was fine. It was only a dream.
About a month later, we went back to our old neighborhood to visit with our neighbors. I knew the new owner of our home was out of town so I crept into the backyard to check on my tree. It was bone dry, brown and dead. Needless to say, I was in shock. My husband, upon seeing me return with brown dried leaves from our once beautiful magnolia tree, responded with one word, "Weird."
After telling my children this story, my 6 year old gasped and covered her mouth.
"Why did you tell me that story, Mommy?! That's so sad!!"
The next thing I know, she and I are both bawling over this tree. My 3 year old looked on in confusion.
I knew my little diva #1 was just like me but that was another defining moment where I saw little "T" in her. Poor thing.
My girls have sensed the frustration and chaos in my mind lately. Thank goodness they get it on some level. I judge myself so harshly for not being a good enough mother to them. Last night, they actually crawled on top of me while I sat in the bed and kept kissing me and telling me they loved me. Usually, I'm a hard ass about them staying in their own beds. But some part of me finally gave in and we snuggled for over an hour. I needed it and they did too. If only I could allow myself that more often and not care where it comes from. (Choose the content, T, not the form.)
Anyway, I'm a lucky mommy. I love my girls. Its frightening that they are so much like me! But hey, at least they get me.