When you wake up to this...
...you put on your pearls and just know your Mothers' Day is going to be perfect.But when you are running into church late (because you just had to blow dry your hair on Mothers' Day) and realize your babe has filled his drawers, making you even later, you ask yourself this all-important question: What does perfect mean anyway?
Does it mean that your children are angelic all day and that the world bows down before you, in complete awe of your amazing mothering?
I don't think so.
Because after changing that dirty diaper, Taylor and I had a non-compliant three-year-old on our hands. And then I ran around the church building making sure all the youth were ready to teach the primary classes, so the women who normally do could have a little break.
But I didn't mind.
Because somewhere in between the diaper change and Sister Clason's inspiring and empowering talk on mothers and women who are making a tangible difference in this world, I realized that perfect doesn't mean free of task or worry or filth or opposition. It means loving life as a mother, regardless of what craziness each day brings.
At least that's what it means to me.
So after church I sat in the back seat, squeezing my hips in between the two car seats, singing "10 Little Ducks Went Out to Play" and feeding smarties (gasp!) to my babes, so they would stop crying. I entered my mother's home, where she had thoughtfully pulled out all of her fancy stemware so we could all toast to our mothers and chug down some sparkling apple cider. I decided I didn't care when Blaine dipped more than his toes (try his whole lower half) into the pool. I sat back and smiled as I watched the kids take turns cranking the ice cream. I didn't let myself get worked up when I had to give Blaine a consequence for pouring a pitcher of pool water on Lizzy. And I loved my mother for doing all of that for me when I was a little one, and then teaching me how to do it all for my little ones.
The day ended how it began. Beautifully.
(At the ranch.)
Rogers on the baby tractor.
pantsless after the pool incident
so glad to have daddy home
Why is it that every year we end up at the ranch on Mothers' Day and I always still have my stilettos on? Not optimal.
Soph and Blaine.
Uncle B. and Mr. B.
Loving my boys and trying to find the perfect
5 comments:
What a great post! I love your outlook on life. I know you like to make sure you're being "real" on your blog, but I really appreciate how you try to make the best of any situation.
What was the answer to yesterday's trivia question.
What I would give for a ride on a horse at a ranch. stilleto's not included. But they look rockin on you!
What a perfect post! You are amazing!
It WAS a very special day, Anne. So glad we could all be together. Wish I knew how to tell you in words how much I love you.
Love this. The card I wrote to my mom said something like, "This morning I wanted to wear the pearls you gave me. But I knew Spencer would rip them off ..."
Mother's Day is a good lesson in mothering, isn't it??
And Blaine's Birthday? Darling. Way to go on the Pooh Bear cake, Tay!
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