I'm busy...Godmothering!

Isley: Godmother, your legs are big.

Me: Yes sweetie, I know. Godmother is a bigger adult person. #ugh #runningintheAM #thestruggle

Triana: Godmother, why are you doing that to your hair?

Me: I have to wrap my hair because it’s different than yours. If I don’t wrap my hair at night, I’ll have to do lots of stuff to make it pretty like yours in the morning.

Isley: Are you sleeping with us?

Me: Yes, I’m getting in (that little bitty bed) with you both. Where else would I sleep?  #CallTheChiropractor   

Where are these sold?!?!?!?!

I am a Godmother. I have four beautiful goddaughters. And one handsome godson from another friendship.

My very best friend in this world has 4 beautiful baby girls, 3 of which I get to see from time to time in Southern California. They make my world so much brighter, so much bigger, and I am a better human being because of them. My life is so much, so exponentially better with them in it.

So I got to see them this past weekend. Like I did during Halloween. TWP and I planned it perfectly. I was going to come down hours before the time all kids impatiently await. Trick-Or-Treating. I was going to escort my girls on their candy coated adventures.

I walked into the house, costume in tow, ready to surprise their pampers off! Triana looked up and said, “I knew you would come Godmother.” She walked over calmly, hugged and kissed me. And then asked me why my fairy wings were black. Nobody ever told them I was planning a trip to town. 

They are amazing. And I always count them on my list if blessings. I have the power to influence them. Whatever Godmother says is true. And Godmother says they are the smartest, prettiest girls in the world. I get to love them fully, completely, with the wholeness of a broken heart. Do you know the wonder in that? The amazing experience it is to live that moment. I am the mother, given to them through parents, by God.

It scares me to death. 

You've met me. This is not a shocker.

I remember watching the movie Raising Helen. After her sister and brother-in-law dies and she inherits what? The children. Not the other sister who has a family, children of her own, and is totally capable, able and knowledgeable enough to take care of kids. Helen does. The sister who is a young, single, vibrant woman living the big city life. A person who doesn’t practice thinking about anyone other than herself, because she doesn't have to.

And that’s exactly what I’m saying every day I proclaim with pride that I am a (single) Godparent. That should something terribly unfortunate (please don’t) happen, I “get” the kids.

Whoa.

That’s heavy. Even when you consider the fact that I have fully grown kids of my own I never birthed. Or the fact that I grow kids up into adults on a daily basis. That is real, yo. 

And I suppose it’s the unspoken reason why. Like in that movie. Most parents aren’t ready to be parents, even those who “plan” the pregnancy – if there is such a thing. Everything about that experience is new, scary, unknown and lots, LOTS of mistakes are made. And they read all the books! But most parents figure it out. Make it work. Grow their kids safely to age 18. And send them to me, to get them safe(ish) beyond 21. 

Why would TWP choose me, of everyone he knows, to do this thing for him? To be the godmother to everything his partner in life makes inside of her? Same reason that sister chose Helen.

I got this. #challengeaccepted

Because I know him. Because in many ways I am him. And if he should depart this world too soon (whenever we leave one another it will be waaaayy too soon and neither one of us will be ready) I will be the one representing him. The way his girls remember him. Saying to his girls the things he would say if he were here. Taking them the places he would want them to see. Hugging them the way he would want them to be embraced. And love. Loving them the way (or at least something like it) he would want to be loved. Should he leave the world before me, I am the person who will show his children the man he was. His greatness. His limitations. His hopes. His prayers for their lives. His aspirations for the future. The specific, unique, individualized love he had for each of them – because that’s the way I will have to love his girls. The smile on his face when learned he would be a Dad, then a Dad again (and again, and again). The joy in his voice when they spoke their first words, took their first steps. And how he worked so hard to give them the best life. I have the history of him, locked away in my heart like insurance.

Just in case. #reallifeinsurance 

And when they sit around looking at pictures and relics of his life, I will tell them. His feeling on that day. What his life was like in that moment. I will reveal his (approved) secrets because I know them all. And they will laugh, and cry, and grieve – just a little. Never too much grieving, because he would never want us doing that. I’ll also remind them of that too. He would never want us to forget him or to grieve him. Rather remember him, be better because of him, live lives to honor him. I’d also have to make sure his girls did that too.

Before this weekend, being a Godmother was awesome. The best! Then I realized the job description.

I wish I could say I wasn’t qualified. You know, give this very important job to someone else so I can worry about all these things I don’t have control over like I normally do. Problem is, I’m the only person on earth qualified to do the job.

And I am afraid I will disappoint him. And not be what I need to be to them.