Even though she was a cow...

Marley currently has an obsession with one of my favorite books: The Story of Ferdinand. As I was reading it for the third time today I tried to soak up the wisdom in the simple story.

Ferdinand was a peaceful bull who, rather than run and jump and butt heads together with the other bulls, preferred to sit just quietly under his favorite tree and smell the flowers. His mother worried that he would be lonesome all by himself and asked him why he didn't want to run and play. He told her he liked it better in the shade, under his favorite tree and (this is my favorite part):

...because she was an understanding mother, even though she was a cow, she let him just sit there and be happy.

Each of my three children is Ferdinand in their own way. They each have ways of being happy that are foreign to me. Eric prefers to keep his emotions mostly inside his own heart and head. I would explode. Brigham sometimes breaks away from the group he's playing with because whatever they're doing doesn't seem fun to him. Togetherness would trump interest for me, every time. Marley sleeps naked. I'd freeze.

I'm not there yet, but I'm trying to learn that they are the ones with the maps to their own happiness, not me. My best moments as a mother are when I can remember to stand back and cheer on their daily efforts to be true to themselves.

Maybe someday it will be said of me: she was an understanding mother, even though she was a cow. ;)