The Sometimes Mom

My kids know me well. For Mother's Day this year they created a scripture scavenger hunt because "she really likes scriptures, and she really likes scavenger hunts." They're right on both accounts. Each piece of paper held a scripture reference which, when looked up, led me to a specific place in the home where another reference was waiting for me. Brilliant.

I don't really remember what was waiting for me at the end of the scavenger hunt which, honestly, makes me happy because, hooray for enjoying the journey more than the destination. The destination might have been that cheesecake up there... I do love cheesecake.

And I also love her:

It felt a little weird to not have a baby or toddler around for Mother's Day this year. It's the first time in seventeen years. Eliza's a beautiful preschooler now and with every little milestone she reaches I realize again that a significantly important and beautiful phase of my own life is ending. If I think too hard about all the things I'll miss about it I can start feeling sad before my next blink, but if I look into those faces I can see that it really is a beautiful thing. Watching my babies grow to toddlers to preschoolers to little kids to big kids to tweens to teens to big teens is maybe the most fulfilling thing in my life.

Next to him:

He's pretty fulfilling, too. Which is a good thing because I'm starting to come to terms with the whole Kids Grow up and Leave concept. Whenever he wraps his arm around my shoulders, he always squeezes me closer. Our lives are a lot about our children right now, but that squeeze... that's about us.

We played out on the sports court and ate our cheesecake under the warm sun. I wanted to grab a picture of all of us looking at the camera, and I laugh every time I see this picture because Carson was the only one who didn't get the memo for 'serious faces'.

Happy faces are better anyway.

And here is pictured probably the most sincere Mother's Day note I've ever received:

Dear mom,

I love that you, sometimes, you spend time with us and you let us do fun Friday and you read to us (sometimes). And you sometimes drive us places on Saturday. These are all reasons I love you.

He nailed me.

And I'm not even sad about it. Because he's so right. The truth is that sometimes I run away from my kids and hide in the bathroom with chocolate. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I shame, sometimes I yell, and sometimes I ignore.

But sometimes? Sometimes I get it all right.

And sometimes seems to be enough.