Being a mom has changed so much of who I thought I'd be at my age. With every passing day with these children, the good and bad, I'm always reminded that being a mother is a gift. We play a part in the molding of our children's future, and yet, we get to watch them grow into independent people, so much cooler than we can attribute to our own doing. We get to watch them learn about the world with wide curious eyes. We get to snuggle and rub backs at bedtime. We get to feed them all the foods we loved AND hated growing up. We get to teach them all the things in life that we deem interesting and awesome. We get to love someone else more than we love ourselves. Motherhood is definitely a gift.
On our way to church this morning, Fiona nonchalantly said a curse word (not repeatable) in such a perfect context with the most natural and certain usage of the (not repeatable) word, you'd think she said that (not repeatable) word all the time. Or even their less offensive cousin curse words. There's really no questioning the source either when your child is 1) four years old, 2) not in school, and 3) both her parents turned seven shades of red at once. We were both guilt-stricken immediately, which only means that BOTH parents are sailors, exponentially increasing the likeliness that the (not repeatable) word will resurface from the mouths of children who've not yet even tasted undiluted juice. Sigh.
That's more like it. Honesty is part of the Mother's Day liturgy. It feels so good. You're not allowed to kiss your sleeping baby's head tonight before acknowledging that they and you are complete and total screw-ups. With that said, motherhood really does feel like a gift. One this @#$%! sailor doesn't deserve.
Happy Mother's Day, Sisters!
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