Perfect

I have to confess that I'm not always a good mother. In fact, more often than not, I'm not nearly as good a mother as I would like to be.

I yell. Too often.

I am not nearly as consistent as I should be. Mealtimes aren't always peaceful. Alyssa's actually a horrible eater and it's probably my fault. I let her eat too much junk and I don't push the good stuff nearly enough.

I'm sometimes too strict and at other times, I'm too indulgent.

But last night, as I tucked Alyssa in, after laying Olivia gently in bed after she'd fallen asleep in my arms, I realized that for these two girls, I'm quite possibly the perfect mother. As I kissed Alyssa goodnight and asked her if she'd had a good day, she grinned up at me and said, "It was a no-yelling day." And it had been. We hadn't even declared it such. It just happened.

With these girls, the sweet little souls who look to me for guidance and support, I have my bad days, my bad moments. But we also have some amazing moments, some wonderful days where everything is good, perfect even.

This morning after breakfast, I swept Alyssa into my arms, all 61 pounds of her, and we spun around the kitchen for a few minutes, just being together, just the two of us.

It was perfect.

We're busy these days. The older the girls get, the busier our family gets. That's how it is with most families. There's just so much do to and see. So many chores to be done and homework to check.

And in those moments of busyness, I'm less than perfect. I'm not patient enough, I don't take time to just take it all in.

But in the quiet moments before sleep, as Olivia sucks her thumb and holds her arm out for me to rub/scratch, gazing up at me with complete love and trust, those moments hold such perfection. Those moments tell me to give myself a little break, to not be so hard on myself when it wasn't a no-yelling day. Because the days, the moments we remember? Those quiet minutes of holding tight and the laughing, spinning times? Those are the stuff memories are made of. Those are the moments of perfection that they'll look back on fondly.

I hope.

I hope the yells to put on their boots and grab their lunch as we race out the door aren't the times that are impacting their psyche.

I hope there are more good than bad moments. More seconds of perfection rather then minutes of imperfection.

As mothers, all we can do is hope. Hope and try a little harder in the next moment to make it a good one. To make it a perfect one.