momma mommy bwuh

On a recent road trip, I listened to Boy2 confidently belt out the wrong lyrics to a song. For a split second, I almost corrected him. But then it hit me—one day, his little voice won’t be shouting any lyrics from the backseat at all, wrong or otherwise.

I know that one day Boy2 won’t have a childlike voice. One day, he won’t care to sing classic rock, country songs, Breaking Benjamin, or Taylor Swift. One day, he won’t crawl into my lap like a Great Dane puppy and wrap me in a hug. Each of these small, sacred moments could be the last, because every day he is growing into a little man. He’s discovering his own personality, his own preferences, and yes—his own moods.

So I can’t bring myself to correct his singing. I can’t ask him to quiet down when the music takes over. I can’t ask him to sit next to me instead of on me. We didn’t get the first five years of his life, so I cherish every minute of the years we do have. I soak in his comfort within our little family. I love that he can be himself—loud, weird, and unapologetic—without fear of judgment. Our home is his safe haven.

I often see posts on social media reminding us that we only get so many summers, Christmas mornings, first days of school, and bedtime snuggles with our kids. I know that’s true. I know that as my boys grow older, they’ll spend more time with friends and, eventually, build families of their own. I hope they never go too far away, but I also know that if they do, my role is to prepare their hearts and minds for the world—and to always keep a place for them here at home. They will always have a place at home.

That’s the thing about home: you can always go back.

Years ago, when I had cancer—before we had the boys—my parents showed me just how true that is. I hadn’t lived with them in over ten years. I was married. But I was struggling. We were struggling. Without hesitation, my parents opened their home to me and my husband so we wouldn’t have to struggle alone, so we could get back on our feet. It was exactly what we needed. At 36 years old, I needed home.

I will always make sure my boys have a place to call home. A place where they feel safe. A place they can return to, no matter how old they are or how far they roam.

Always.