Every night, I go into both of your rooms to check on you before I go to bed. Truth is, you don't need to be "checked on" anymore, you are both totally and completely fine. But I need to do it. In fact, I can't go to sleep unless I do. I need to see you one last time for the day, laying there still & peaceful. I need to have a few moments that I can talk with you, where you can't talk back to me, or interrupt me. And while I know you aren't really hearing what I have to say to you, it's more for me, than it is for you.
While you are sleeping, I whisper to you my most heartfelt apologies. I tell you that I'm sorry for making you feel as though you weren't as important to me as my e-mail was when you asked me to play legos with you.
While you are sleeping, I regret raising my voice at you, instead of talking to you reasonably and calmly. And really really listening to you.
While you are sleeping, I offer you the respect that I always wish for in return. I offer to treat you as a human being, and not just my child.
While you are sleeping, I count all the times I heard your laughter, and didn't bother to find out what was so funny.
While you are sleeping, I watch as you lay there so peacefully, as your little chests rise & fall -- I thank God for you.
And lastly, before I leave your room, I promise to try and do better tomorrow. To be slower to yell, and faster to offer a hug. I promise to try and give you the benefit of the doubt. I promise to try and always make you feel important. I hope that one day, you will understand that I am only human. I can't be perfect, even though I really really want to be. But what I can do, is try. I can give you that promise.