Click here to read Shannon's beginning of her blog.
...What is it, I wonder, that they'll take from this moment, right now, this very day? Standing right here, right now, spinning all these plates, am I being the mother that I hope they remember?
The question plagues me, sometimes.
Because this parenting gig is hard. Very, very hard. Many nights I fall into bed with a list of things I mean to show them or meant to explain or meant to apologize for, and my heart is heavy. I wonder if the frazzled, impatient mom is the one they'll recall the most easily.
But then some evenings we collapse in a snorting fit of laughter at the dinner table, and I think yes, God, let this be the one they remember from today.
It's not that I'm out to win a popularity contest in their minds. Who my children become is of utmost important, and I'm fully prepared to be the Bad Guy occasionally, as it will surely be a necessary part of their journey. But I want to be mindful, as we wade through the necessities of everyday-ness, that I'm not just getting them from point A to point B. I'm building a framework of memories, things they'll turn over and ponder and re-hash when they're grown. When Frazzled Mom appears--as she surely will--let me be sure that I'm balancing her out with memories of good jokes and good books and gentle pats and deep talks and easy laughter.
Let me never forget the destination. It isn't soccer practice or a cleaned plate or a folded basket of underwear. Those are tiny little stops along the way, and they're stops that often create a sense of urgency, blinding me from the big picture.
They'll never remember the folded underwear. But if I listen? And laugh? And encourage? And smile? And understand?
They'll remember that. And so will I.
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