Dear Flynn,

When I get to tuck you in, we do your prayer, we say good night....sometimes there are nights like tonight, when you are so exhausted from all the fun you had, that you fall asleep before I can even cover you up.
Then, I look at your pouty lips, your dark hair flowing off the edge of your pillow; those long eyelashes, resting on your baby cheeks, and I feel sad...

that I wasn't patient enough today.
that I loaded the dishwasher instead of reading you another book.
that you always get the blame because you're older & stronger.
that tomorrow morning, you'll wake up early & head out the door & spend hours away from me.
that I am just not one of those mommas who have unending endurance for the normal age-appropriate mishaps, misbehaviors, fights with baby brothers.
and that instead of counting to ten, I count how many times "I told you..."
that you hear no more than you hear yes.
that you hear me angry more than you hear me happy.
that sometimes I'd just rather do what I want to do, instead of what you want to do.

I hope you'll forgive me.
Tomorrow I'll try harder.

Love,
Momma