I want to be that mom someday.

I want to be the mom whose house and yard always need a little more attention than they seem to get because of the wear and tear of holding so many young people all the time. I want to be that mom whose kids’ friends are always around. I want to be the mom whose kid hits those teenage years having spent so many days with his friends building things in the back yard, conducting experiments in the laundry room, and getting the band together that they don’t even realize how habitually they gravitate to my house.

I want to create an environment where after so many puppet shows, play-dough castles, and back-yard ball games, it seems natural to my kid and his friends to have a poetry reading in my basement on a Friday night instead of going out looking for trouble.

So I let him jump on the couch. I think it’s okay for him to have a sandbox in the sun porch so he and his friends can dig and pour to their hearts’ content even on the rainiest of days. I have a container of play dough on hand at all times and I spend my precious free time scheduling playdates and outings and story times. I read up on the practicality of Montessori, the whimsy of Waldorf, and the inspiration of Reggio Emilia. Because I hope to build my son’s foundations so solidly and firmly that he knows he can fly.

I want to be that mom who doesn’t try to live through her child but is successfully there for him.