Last night between the hours of 2 and 3:45 I had a terrible episode of insomnia. This happens every once in awhile.
It starts out with something silly: For example, last night it was...."I'm so excited so-and-so won an award for their art piece....I can't wait to tell them." (Yes, I am THAT much of an art teacher dork.
Then it turns into the dreadful things you don't allow yourself to think about during the day... i.e. "Ugh, I do NOT want to start a new semester tomorrow. What if I don't like any of my kids? What if they don't think I'm funny? What if they decide to target me in an all-out rage against the art teacher revolt? What if I forget to pack a pair of underwear in my gymbag for tomorrow? I must remember to pack a underwear. What if I forget to pack clothes completely and I have to wear my sweaty gym clothes to work? What if I forget to go to work?"
Soon it moves on to more reminiscent things... Last night it was my first "boyfriend" Brian McCowen (I use that term loosely)..."Remember Brian McCowen, that boy I "went with" in third grade and never once said a word to? That was weird. It was weird because I didn't even want a boyfriend. I thought boys were stupid. Remember how your best friend told you that you had to "go with him"? Go where? I don't even remember being in the same room as him. I wonder what he's doing? Did he graduate from high school? Do you think he remembers me? Why are you thinking about this?
Then about 3:15 as I get kicked in the ribs by my 2.5 year that is doing a floor routine on my bed in his sleep that rivals Mary Lou Retton circa 1984 (you better believe I was a fan (with a swimsuit to match)). That was about the time it got serious, like it always does. Insomnia for me always ends on a serious note....
That is when I started thinking about something I had never before considered in raising Miles....accountability. Sure, my goal is to raise him to be a steward of the earth. To love. To show kindness. To be a humanitarian. And to not be annoying. I could say the same for Liam.
But last night it occurred to me that there is a difference.
There are people that have Miles' back. There are a lot of people counting on me. I can not screw this up. There is a person out there that doesn't get to do this - doesn't get to show him what a backhoe is, or how to imitate an elephant. They have chosen to let me. Somehow, in some screwed up way, it was decided that I could provide a better life for him. They are counting on me to do it perfectly - no room for error. They are counting on me to love him, to show him love....to raise their baby....my baby. And someday when and if Miles gets to meet those people I hope they can look at him and say... your mom did one hell of a job.... and that is one hell of an elephant impression.