some days (and nights) are hard. . .

Some days (like yesterday) I feel like a bad mother. Some nights (like last night) I wonder: will all my children's childhood memories revolve around me being an impatient mother, a critical mother, a nagging mother? This makes me cry and is especially poignant when I am checking on the children after they have fallen asleep. . . so precious, so beautiful, so peaceful.

So my little ones, tomorrow is a new day and I am going to try (again) to be better. . . I will stop what I am doing and look into your eyes when you want to tell me something. I will let the innocent messes slide (but not the naughty-know-better ones). I will focus when you are telling me the names of your future 12 children, the way the lizard looks when his skin is coming off and the play-by-play of the Go Diego Go blue-morpho-butterfly episode. I will put you in your room more promptly when you are falling apart so I do not fall apart right along with you. I will hug you more and correct you less.

Because I want you to know that you are my world.