Color Blind

When I look at Avery I am overwhelmed with want for him. It makes my heart actually physically ache. As I look at this picture and the bruise on his precious cheek I am at a loss for words. I spend at least 15 minutes every day of my life feeling guilty about what I do to Avery.

For starters I wake him up way too early, rush him around, feed him crap, and shove him in the car so that I can drop him off for a minimum of 9 hours with other kids whose parents I don't know, and even if I did know them I probably wouldn't like them. Then I go to daycare, rush him again, cram him back in the car seat, commute the 45 minutes back home, walk the dogs, feed him more crap, rush him through his bath, and put him in the bed. Wow, such quality of life for a little guy.

Nothing makes me madder than when someone offers this advice, "well, you've gotta work!" Thanks, that helps. Really. I had never considered that logic. Now I feel great about it. Crisis averted. Gesh!

BTW, the bruise on his cheek happened on the playground. It was no one's fault and it could have just as easily happened at home, but it didn't. I missed it. I didn't get to soothe him and kiss it better. The bruise is a reminder that 5 days a week I put the bottom line ahead of Avery. 5 days a week, 9 hours a day, at a minimum.

Things I want for Avery:

1. I want him to know he was wanted, wished for, hoped for, planned. He wasn't a TO DO, a "surprise", a second thought, a "blessing" (though he was), or whatever else people call it. Avery was very deliberate.
2. I want him to know people design traffic cones, guitar strings, logos, curriculums, climb rocks, study rocks, create ice cream flavors, wait tables, weigh patients, design software, design soft beds, or any number of other things he might not think of, for a living. He can be a photographer, a magician, a neurologist, a fortune teller, or a large animal vet. He can also deliver papers and volunteer at Meals on Wheels. I want him to understand how many choices are out there, and how vast the differences are. I don't want Avery to be a slave to "stuff". I want stuff to be secondary.
   
3. I want Avery to be color blind. I want him to love people. All people. I want him to understand that phrases like "all "x" people "fill in the blank"" is crazy talk. I want Avery to know that crazy, lazy, sorry, wonderful, exceptional, and extraordinary have nothing to do with the color of a person's skin and everything to do with what is in their heart.
4. I want Avery to have more fun than me and feel less guilt than I do. I want Avery to be happy.
   

How on Earth will I ever be worthy of this little boy?