Her enthusiasm was 1/2 of what it was when we began even less when
it was time to eat. 😂
And after tasting... well. Let’s just say. She was even less pleased. 🤷🏿♀️🤦🏿♀️
It only took us five hours, an ambitious undertaking for us all, but Kenz and I created, what I thought, was the perfect bowl of chicken gnocchi soup (SWIPE ➡️)With gnocchi we mixed, hand rolled, and cooked from scratch. 🥵
(Did you know gnocchi begins with 🥔🥔🥔)
One thing about Kenz, she’s going to be both clear and vocal with her thoughts.
I love that about her. I love that for her. That she owns her freedom.
It hasn’t always been as easy, for me.
My feelings have been hurt. I’ve taken her opinions and thoughts personally.
It’s not always convenient. I’ve been embarrassed, fearing other people’s reactions, or judgements about my parenting.
I’ve been afraid that someone would try and take her freedom, or bully her out of it... like I felt like happened to me.
I’ve stumbled some, losing my awareness and punishing her for just being free.
I apologize. I share my insecurities, I remind her other peoples responses aren’t personal, even mommy’s.
Together, we figure out how we can be kind to ourselves, and to others.
Her reminding me of my own freedom, that I had long abandoned for decorum and etiquette.
Her, reminding me that people have their own thoughts, feelings, notions, musings, and it has nothing to do with me. We don’t have to agree. It doesn’t have to mean anything to me or take anything from me.
I didn’t grow up like Kenz, but I’m reparenting the parts of me that still deserve to. With my freedom.
Children are the best teachers. 💕