As a mother, I have my fair share of moments where I just feel like such a failure. Maybe you can relate. It’s when you show up ten minutes late when you promised you’d be there early – this time. It’s when you rushed out the door and forgot to pack their lunch – again. It’s giving permission to grab something from the laundry basket because you just didn’t get to the wash – tonight.
I have the best intentions, but I have the most disheveled mental filing cabinet. I can’t remember things anymore unless I write it down or put it in my phone so it can send me a reminder.
Morning commute: Get gas
Lunch break: Mail that letter, pick up milk and bread
Evening commute: Don’t forget to call your mother!
Bedtime: Shower (I know!)
In all the chaos of trying to juggle the precious hours I am given each day, I question whether I am making the most of every one. I ask myself what I am missing, and at what cost. Then those moments appear… the ones you replay in your head and treasure in your heart. It’s when your oldest child cuddles her sister and reads her a book – instead of fighting. It’s when everyone piles on mommy’s bed on a Saturday morning – after having slept in. It’s when you run outside without a coat, stand under the street light, and catch the falling snow with your tongue – because you should.
Those are the moments that matter. Those are the moments that shape us. They are sacred reminders of beauty, love, and sweetness. They sustain us.