I Want to Be Home Base | Heritage Mom

source: https://heritagemom.com/index.php/2019/02/03/i-want-to-be-home-base/

When I was in 3rd grade, my teacher asked us to write about what we wanted to be when we grow up. I wrote "A wife and mother," and my mom kept that piece of paper in the pocket of a hideous green floral pillow I sewed for her that year. She gave me that pillow after I gave birth to my first child, and it was the one (and only) time I've been glad that she saves everything.

My vision for motherhood evolved quite a bit in the 24 years between when I wrote that vision statement and when I became a mama, but I've never wavered on the end goal.

I want to be home base.

I want my children to know, without any doubt, that home is a place where they can come for love, connection, and rest. And home is wherever I am. I may be a destination or a way station, depending on what's happening in their lives, but either way, I want to be that person. And not just while they're young or until they graduate from my homeschool. I'm talking forever. That's home base.

I've whispered, "I'll love you forever, completely, and no matter what" in the ears of my children every night that I've tucked them into bed since birth. Their lips now move along with me because they already know what I'm going to say. I picked that line to repeat because I want them to reflexively think of me when they wonder who is in their corner or they need a reset. That's home base.

Yes, home base is a place to reach in order to score a touchdown home run (Today is Superbowl Sunday, so I had to leave my initial error in here for a little ironic chuckle), but it's also "headquarters." It's the place where the operation of my family takes place, and my kids will always have a corner office here.

I know all of this is really lovely. I got teary-eyed just writing it. And it's all true. Every word of it.

But I messed up today, y'all.

It's been unseasonably warm this week so we went to the park. I was talking to some other moms with my preschooler underfoot begging for [fill in the blank]. All of a sudden, my oldest son ran full speed into my hip and clutched my waist. It was so unexpected, I lost my balance and tripped over my youngest. This ended with me on the dusty ground, a little sore and a lot embarrassed. I jumped up, and immediately lit into him.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING {you idiot}????!!!! LOOK WHAT YOU DID {and how bad you made me look)!!!! YOU COULD'VE HURT ME OR YOUR BROTHER {and I am soooo angry, angry, angry}!!!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU {you are so disappointing}???!!!

No, I didn't say the words in brackets, but my tone, facial expression, and fury voiced them nonetheless. He looked up at me with one tear rolling from just one eye, and his trembling lips said,

"I'm sorry, Mama. {sniff, sniff} I didn't mean to hurt you. I can't run as fast as the big kids so I made you home base. I ran to you as fast as I could so I would be safe."

Seriously? Did this little piece of my heart just say that he knocked me over on my behind because I was his home base when he was being run down by the big guys?

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! <<< That's me explaining how I felt inside at that moment.

Yes, I know he was only playing a game and that my body was a literal home base, but still. He was speaking my language. He was using the EXACT words I've used deep in my heart to explain what I want to be to my children. And his response instantly convicted me on my sinfully nasty response to him. I screamed at him before even asking what happened. I ripped him to pieces for what he did to me without considering his intent or preciousness.

He came to me as home base, and I proved myself unworthy.

And this isn't the first time I've harshly chastised a child who didn't deserve my wrath. I've been around this block a time or two so you'd think I'd know better.

But here I am.

A flawed and tattered home base.

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