To my children, on Mother's Day

I've been a bad Mommy this week. No amount of dark chocolate could get me through the day without lashing out at my poor children. It was mostly hormonal, but my short-temper is a character flaw that I really, REALLY, need to work on. (Seriously, Holy Spirit, if you are reading this, I need help!) So often I get caught up in the small details of the days that I forget to just enjoy the children, the who and how they are right now. Many people are writing and reflecting about their mothers today. I don't think I can without crying a lot, so instead I will write and reflect about my children and cry a little.

Let's start with the boy. At six years, he's a wonderful child. He is full of energy and curiosity. He is the one who must figure out how everything works. He is the one who strikes up conversations with strangers in the line at Chick-fil-A to tell them about his lost teeth or the cool thing he found in the ditch. He's the one who wants to be a scientist or inventor or robot builder.
He's the one who likes to be the first at everything: getting up in the morning, running home, playing on the computer. He's the one who giggles. He's the one who wants to sit right next to you while watching a movie. He is most like his father in his wiry hair and distractibility. He is most like me in his smile and stubborn independence.

Then there is the toddler. She is almost two and at that perfect age where she is still a cuddly baby at times, but is learning and exploring so quickly you can hardly keep up! She loves babies. She loves singing and dancing. She loves being outside and going for walks. She can be very quiet and is often found sitting on the couch or her little chair perusing a book. Her favorite foods are bananas and yogurt, though not together. Her vocabulary is booming lately. She's making sentences, can say her name and repeats just about everything she hears, for good or bad. She is most like her father in her cheerfulness and sweet puppy-dog face. Of all the children, I think she is most like me.


Finally, there is the older daughter. She is nearly ten and is blossoming into a young lady before my very eyes. She has been addicted to the computer since a very young age. She has a lively imagination and likes creating and playing role-playing games (RPGs). She draws and doodles all the time. She doesn't think much about boys, except her brother, who is her constant companion and playmate. She loves animals and reading. She has read almost every book in the Warriors series a couple of times each. She has a secret club with her best friend, Lily. She is messy and tall and loud and not nearly as brave as she imagines she is. She is most like her father in her boisterous laughter and her addiction to electronic gadgets. She is most like me in her moodiness and love of reading.
 

Thank you, children, for filling my days so that my life will always be full. Thank you for your joyful noise so that I may relish in the silence as you sleep. Thank you for your angry words so that your hugs, kisses and little kindnesses are all the more sweet. Thank you for the unmade beds and the dirty clothes and the hungry stomachs so that I may serve you. Thank you for your questions so that I may think and be wise. Thank you for being so that I may be a mother, your mother. I thank you and love you...always.