A Mother's Perspective

A mother's perspective of her children is always biased, as it should be. Lately Mitch and Libby have been driving me crazy. They were both out for harvest break and so there was a lot of time together, which means a lot of teasing and fighting, and a little bit of loving each other. I've also been super busy with a new job and been pretty edgy lately. So I've been trying really hard to focus on all the good things about my kids. The best time to do this is when they're asleep. They are so peaceful and calm and not fighting with each other. As I looked at my kids several times these last couple of weeks I realized how even as naughty and imperfect they might be at times I'm always gravitated to the perfection in them. As I looked at Mitch I notice that he's a long, lean, not so little boy anymore. He reminds me daily that next month he'll be eight and get to be baptized. He's so excited for his baptism day and he's very conscientious about choosing the right. I look at him and see how he's transformed from this crazy baby boy, with chunky cheeks and spiky hair into a crazy big boy, who's super skinny, with some new "sun kisses" on his face, with dirty fingernails from playing hard outside.

Libby has transformed too. She was the sweetest baby on earth and now she's a little (well, not so little) chunky monkey. The term "sugar and spice" fits her perfectly. She is such a sweet little girl, but definitely has an attitude. She's turned into quite the little mother and really wants to be a big girl. When we play during the day she always wants to be the mom and I"m the little girl. Someday she'll be all grown up and I'll be sad.

At night my mind turns to Graham. Mostly because I don't have as much time to think about him during the day. At night when I lay in bed I try to remember all I can about him because I'm so afraid of forgetting. But the thing that surprises me the most is that I can only remember his perfect hands and feet, and sweet little body. His perfect little lips, his button nose, and his genuine eyes. I remember his light hair and his sweet spirit, but I don't remember his imperfections. Sometimes I feel like I can't remember his face, or him as a whole, but I think I don't remember the imperfections because he will be perfect when I see him again.

I'm grateful to have this perspective of my "perfect" kids. Mostly to remind me of how much Heavenly Father has blessed me. But also to get me through those days where all I can see is their imperfections :)