The Hardest Blog I've Ever Had to Write

Dear Mason,

Almost three weeks ago, your dad moved out. I think I've started writing this blog fifteen times. Type. Delete. Start over new. I've tried talking to you about it, too - in the bath tub, during dinner, at the park - but the words never come out right and you look me in the eyes like you understand everything without me saying it anyway. I wonder all the time what you're thinking and how much you really do know. It's the most complicated feeling of wanting you to understand everything and nothing; wanting you to know I'm doing all I can to do what I hope is best for you and wanting you to remain sheltered and safe and oblivious. Sometimes we make sound, rational decisions and know we've made the right choice... other times decisions are like rolling the dice - six different possibilities, none of them perfect.

I don't have huge dreams. I never have, even for myself, really. I want you to have a house with a yard. I want you to go to school and ride your bike too fast and jump in mud puddles. I want to be able to get you a puppy. I want you to be happy in knowing that tons of people love you, especially your mom and your dad. A lot. Enough to know that we can be a better mom and a better dad and better friends to each other if we don't live together.

The other day, I found a letter I wrote you before you were born. October 14th, 2007 - before I knew that you were a little boy or that your name would be Mason or that you'd make my life completely perfect.

"Hey, baby. I'm your mom, I guess. It's pretty strange for me to say that, but now that I'm going to be someone's mother, I feel like it's my job to have some kind of fantastic advice for you... so here goes.

We grow up way too quickly, so stay a kid as long as you can. Give people a chance and always look for the best in them. For some, the best takes a little longer to show itself, but if you stick around long enough it will. If you have to argue, only argue over what you really care about and put your whole heart into it. Don't hold grudges. No matter what the world tries to tell you, you'll never be able to judge the character of others by the clothes they wear or how pretty they are. Look deeper. Life is tough and at times it hits you hard; let the hard times show you just how much you are capable of. Don't feel bad if you don't know what you want to be when you grow up (I still don't). Laugh. There are some things you just can't do. Try anyway and try as hard as you can. Sometimes this world can be an ugly place; take the time to find the beauty in it. Be a good tipper. Always appreciate the little things people do for you. Read something, even if it isn't the stuff they tell you to read in school. Don't sit around and don't play too many video games, there's far too much in the world to see, even if the farthest you go is your own backyard. Dance. As for love, share all you have with every person you meet. The most pain you'll ever feel will be a broken heart but it's okay - the pain lets you know you have one. Remember to never forget how much it hurt, because someday you'll have to break someone's heart, too. Karma is real - what goes around will inevitably come around; be gentle, be kind, and be honest. Marry for love and marry your best friend. Don't smoke. If you drink, don't drink and drive. No matter how busy you find yourself, make time to play. Take pictures. Travel. Don't dwell on 'should haves' or 'what ifs'. Hold your head high. Keep things in perspective and take them as they come. Be strong, but if you can't, know that it's okay to cry. Let people live their lives the way they want to and don't stand for anyone determining how you live yours. Take it light. Dream heavy. Love hard."

I read it, I cried, and I decided to take my own advice. Life is messy and confusing but it's beautiful too... and just because you don't get the ending you think you will doesn't mean the ending can't be a happy one. Things always work out, Mase. Always. The most important thing in the world is knowing that you're loved. And you are.

Mama