There was a moment though, when I realized I had stopped thinking of myself as a mom. The woman who had brought home a bundle of joy, swaddled in dreams and good intentions, had become someone I no longer recognized. My thoughts, my actions, and my words were always focused on one thing – keeping the gap between him and his peers from spreading further. But, many times I treated the race like a sprint, when what it really is, is a marathon.
Today, I try not to get too wrapped up in doing everything; instead, I’ve learned to temper the therapy with allowing him to just be a kid. More importantly, I’ve learned to give myself permission to just be his mom. Now I can spend more time enjoying the finer points of mothering; like reminding him to make his bed, take out the trash, and not gloat too much over beating me at Mario Kart.