I'm sorry I haven't been very patient this week. I think the end-of-summer restlessness bug was caught by me as much as you. I want you to know that when the house is quiet and the day is done, my mind becomes clear and the events of the day are put in their perspective. And then I go upstairs and I look in on your warm little sleeping bodies, and my eyes are pricked with tears-- how is it that you can grow up right before my eyes? How is it that the "to-do's" so often win over the precious scenes of the present?
Thank you for letting me be your mom. Thank you for being my little ducklings, all in a row-- letting me lead you, teach you, lecture you--and all too often, snap at you--and for loving me anyway. Thank you Jack, for sitting down next to me while I folded laundry and putting your arm around me. Thank you, Grant, for coming in today and telling me you'd smile and be good, even if I still wouldn't let you play Wii. Thank you, Caroline, for demanding that I put everything down and sing to you. I thought I didn't have time, but it turns out-- I did.
Thank you for letting me be your mom. Thank you for being my little ducklings, all in a row-- letting me lead you, teach you, lecture you--and all too often, snap at you--and for loving me anyway. Thank you Jack, for sitting down next to me while I folded laundry and putting your arm around me. Thank you, Grant, for coming in today and telling me you'd smile and be good, even if I still wouldn't let you play Wii. Thank you, Caroline, for demanding that I put everything down and sing to you. I thought I didn't have time, but it turns out-- I did.
