Those were the first words out of my oldest child's mouth this morning, accompanied by a
I am NOT the perfect mother...nor do I aspire to be a perfect mother. In fact, I HATE the word perfect. NO ONE is perfect, and for my children to try to be "perfect", well, to me that's just an unrealistic and cruel expectation. My 2nd grader has scored 100% on every spelling test this year...will he be crushed if he misses a word? I am almost hoping his streak will be broken before the end of the year; to see his reaction, to see how he deals with an "imperfect" score, and for him to know that I really don't care if his scores aren't "perfect", I just want them to be good.
My house is never perfect, my laundry is never "done", and I usually buy cookie dough in a tub.
Will the kids remember all of these things, though?
Or will they remember that I read them each a bedtime story EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. Will they remember the countless hours spent playing hopscotch, and doing puzzles, playing games, and coloring,
I hope they will NOT remember the mornings when getting out the door and to school on time could land us a guest spot at the Jerry Springer show. But they probably will and use it against me at later dates.
I hope they will NOT remember the times when I lost my temper and snapped at them for something little. I'm sure they will, they all have memories like steel traps.
I hope they remember that I told them EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. that I love them...because I really do. I love them more than anything...even on the days I'd like to pull out every single strand of hair, one strand at a time because they won't stop fighting/whining/screaming/writing on the walls in pen/body slamming each other and crying....
But I wouldn't trade one single whine/cry/scream for anything.
And THIS, I hope they remember.