I sat in the kitchen exhausted. The over head light broke weeks ago so I perched on a step stool in the semi darkness my head resting on my knees, my shoulder holding the phone to my ear.
It had been a long day, a long month, a long year. With all the snow we had my kids hadn't (and still haven't) had a full school week since before Christmas. Josh was home and holding the baby, but still, there was only one person I really wanted to talk to. Mom.
I can't really remember what we talked about. We caught up on the week I'm sure. I most likely shared stories about the girls. She filled me in on the goings on at my dads church.
I had spent all day working so hard to be loving at attentive to my children only to have it all go side ways at bed time and end with every one in tears. I am 29 years old and when that happens all I want is my mom.
I hung up the phone and started the dishes. Mulling over the peace that often comes from hearing my mother's voice. And it hit me. THAT is why I do everything I do. That's why I say yes to painting even when I know it will make a mess. That is why I bundle the kids up to play in the snow, knowing that they will be back in side in five minutes crying that it's cold (Go figure! Snow is COLD?!) That is why I answer the same question for the fifth time in a row and try to listen patiently to a 10 minute long story told by my four year old).
Because it's not just about now. It's about them at 16, and 18, and 29, and who they will turn to when they just need some one to listen. When they need to know what to do next. When they need to hear that they are enough, that they are doing a great job, that it will get easier.
What I am doing now plays such a huge part in who they become, who I become, and who we are together in the future. It's hard... but it's worth it...
Happy Birthday... to the woman who taught me how to love...