Know what’s funny?
It used to really bother me that my stubborn, independant kids don’t love me all the time. Something about bringing a kid into the world makes a woman think she’s earned the right to unwavering love and devotion.
Reality is, they kick and squirm and cause you pain just as much on the outside as they did on the inside. Sometimes it seems the only difference is that outside they can yell at you, too.
But there are also sweet sticky kisses, spontaneous shows of affection, and those glorious moments when you catch them doing something you’ve been trying to teach. (Like the times Cinderella has -all on her own- prayed for Devin during times of his distress. Sunscreen in the eyes, for instance.)
After 4 years I’ve finally learned to relish those happy moments, savor them as long as they’ll last, and forgive the growing pains. I’m a little slow on the uptake, but I’m starting to try and stage happy moments… shh! Don’t tell them I do it on purpose!
Like one night (insert evil chuckling) when John was out with the Bishopric @ YW camp, I’d dutifully put the kids to bed at their proper early time. (6:30) They were tucked in, had come untucked (they usually do when it’s not the DAD figure putting them to bed), and been sent back again when I thought -hey! Why not?!
Much to their surprise and delight I went up and untucked them myself so we could all watch Barbie Nutcracker together. (Gasp!) It’s a short one, they were back in bed by 8pm like normal American kids, hopefully they’ll sleep the better for it. And I now have a sweet memory of being nestled between two little redheads telling me how much they love me.