I love my children. When I became a mother I searched out what parenting philosophy that I thought would be best for my kids. I wanted them to feel love, to know love, and to be love. It was all about love. Love. Love. Love.
I love them. I kiss them. I tell them multiple times a day that I love them from here to the moon. I show them love by taking an extra minute to show them how to do something. I've read and listened to 'The 5 Love Languages for Children'. I buy them things. I teach them. I spend quality time with them. I cry with them and for them. I pray for them and with them.
Until today. Exactly 3 o'clock pm today. I thought I was loving them in the best way possible.
I have a friend. She's become more than a friend and more like a second mother to me. I love this women and respect what she has to say. On Friday she told me point blank that I'm not teaching my children to honor me. *insert the feeling of both me nearly wanting to cry and feeling the Comanche blood in me flair up* I listened to her. I prayed about it. And on our walk home from the library this afternoon as Willow screamed at the top of her lungs that she was "so angry she wanted to hit me"(she didn't) and tried running away. I owned it.
In all honesty this isn't an every day occurrence. Willow has always been quick to say her please's and thank you's and is the most compassionate 4 year old I know. For the last five years I've prescribed to the thought that if I show respect to my child they will respect me. I'm not saying that there is anything false about that. But honor is different. And I'm not feeling it. It's needed. And it's my job as a parent to show them how to honor.