Confessions

I don’t have it together.  I, on the other hand, have an urge to confess.  

1. I have, on occasion, been known to scatter several chocolate chips across the floor to entice the kids to use up some time so I could complete task at hand.
2. I have between one and twenty seven times spurted out ridiculous empty threats despite by intentional decision to avoid this trap.
3. I have used lysol rough wipes on my baby’s bottom.  Today.  
4. My son wears pink socks.  I wear whatever falls out of the drawer when I open it.
5. My daughter wears underwear 4 out of 10 days, if it’s been a good laundry week.
6. I get tired of going to pretend swimming pools.
7. I sometimes plop by 3 year old in front of Barney so that I can take a quick nap with my one year old.  Argh to you, free television babysitter.  Was not my plan.
8. My children do not fall asleep by themselves.  Nary a chance.
9. My 18 month old has spent a handful of nights in his own bed.
10. My kids whine, fight, scream, and push.  

Sigh.  I had this idealistic view of what mothering would be like for me.  I’d be well put together.  Hair brushed.  Kids perfect angels.  Order in the house.  Laundry done.  Love and respect abounding.  Cinnamon rolls baking in the oven before husband wakes up.  Firm boundaries easily established from day one of parenting.  

Fat chance the above came true.  But we’re making it work.  Surrounding all the confessions, today was saturated with those moments to remember.  Little boy just snuggled in to me, cheek to cheek, as he drifted to sweet sleep.  Daughter puddle jumped before getting into the car, finding the high points of a dreary day.  I was told today how lucky I am to have my little ones.  Little 3 year old prayers were sent up today for children who don’t have any food.  We are looking beyond ourselves.  Little girl shoes were placed next to little boy shoes, “because I love Kainoa so much.”  And to top it off, to make my heart remember that my long ago vision of what it would be like can be thrown away, I heard from my 3 year old baby girl what she really thinks of me.  

The last words before sleeping for the night, slow, intentional, and dripping with love.  “Mommy.  I want to be just like you, because I love you the most.”

Be still my beating heart.  I may not have it together, but I’m certainly glad that to her, I’m enough.  Besides, chocolate has antioxidants, lysol is a good disinfectant, pink is a calming colour, and I happen to enjoy cuddling my children to sleep.