Blog Post Interrupted

The other day, while I actually had a quiet minute by myself, I started wondering if I'm providing my children with enough good memories. How will they  remember their childhood? Will their memories be peppered with recollections of all the play dates hosted, the cookies baked together, the visits to the zoo or orchard, parties held? Or will they just remember me for the yelling and grouchiness?

Being a parent of little ones is hard. Or maybe it's just me. I admit, I am very high-strung and certainly haven't ever learned to roll with the punches. It's just not in my DNA. I can spend the entire day cleaning up, and yet the house is never clean. It drives me crazy. We can actually get the boys into their beds on time, only to hear them calling our names for the nineteenth time, an hour later, because one of them can't find one of the 16.5 stuffed animals he sleeps with. It drives me crazy. I can find a minute to finally settle down at the computer to write a blog post, only to hear the baby crying after just falling asleep ten minutes earlier. It drives me crazy!
Oh how I wish I could just relax and ALWAYS relish the everyday joy that abounds in being a mother of little ones. Oh how lovely are my babies. I recognize it. I am truly blessed. But having that recognition of my wonderful life doesn't always translate into me having patience or appreciating the joy in a messy house or two sons who are beating each other up.  So today I will try harder. I will try to smile even when Nathanael calls my name for the five hundredth time today, only to tell me some nonsensical story. I will smile and acknowledge the nonsense. Instead of yelling when he drops a full cup of pink applesauce on the floor and it splatters onto our newly painted ceiling, I will smile. I will try to smile when I tuck him in for his nap and I hear him, 20 minutes later, still banging around in his room, probably playing with the 95 toys tucked in with him.

Instead of huffing and rolling my eyes when I hear the baby stir, when I have just sat down for the first time today, I will smile back at her because I know she will smile at me as soon as I pick her up. And when Sam comes home and immediately starts running around downstairs, playing ball in the house and begging to earn computer time, I will smile. When he refuses to write slowly and neatly, I will smile instead of being frustrated. When I have to repeat myself twenty-nine times before he actually listens, I will still smile.

And when I fail to smile, I'll try again tomorrow. Because they deserve it. Because they won't be small forever. Because when they are grown and gone, I will miss these days.