I’m glad for the good times and the homemaking skills, the little songs she sang us, the silliness and the ethics. Her years of patience.
I have become an inadvertent homeschooler overnight, which is both an ego boost and a death wish. Help me with some ideas?
Don’t give up too quickly: on your children, on yourself, or on those “other moms” who don’t get it, or don’t talk about it.
“Let it be said I did it as well as I could and learned to wring joy out of every day in the midst of the glaring ordinary.”
No matter what we do, we will always know someone who does it bigger or braver. Certainly if we had known it would burn like fire, we would have stepped away from the hellish abyss.
I think of this when the moms-who-are-done-with-the-busy-stage look back and sigh, and say, “I wish I had let the housekeeping go. Just enjoy them…”
I’ve been sharing my words in other ways this month. Here are some sneaky snippets.
He was my first baby – now thirteen months old. His hair was brown, his eyes were striking, his grin was quick. I thought he was perfect.
Sometimes all your ideals fly out the window because it’s two a.m. and your baby will not settle, and you’ve already been out of bed six times, trying to shush her before she wakes her brother, but now it’s too late because he’s fussing too. And his bed is wet.
You may become an adult who knows how to draw wayward teenagers back toward love. You may become the kind-hearted grandma at church who asks to rock a colicky baby for his frazzled new mom. You may become the sort of person who walks toward difficult children instead of away from them.