Before I say what I really wanted to say, I need to give you a little background on what my morning was like today.
We had to wake up early so that Stephen could get our car, which had died again, into the shop before heading off to work. We prayed that the fix wouldn't be too expensive and that we would still be able to take our much-needed-get-away to Rexburg this weekend. I told Stephen that I was going to run away if we ended up not being able to take that trip. He encouraged me to. Anyway, so we got Benjamin up and discovered that he had soaked his pajamas over night -again- and scrambled to get him into the tub.
See, our mornings are always crazy. Always. Both boys wake about the same time and demand that their needs be taken care of first, oblivious to the needs of their brother and their parents. Of course this is pretty typical at their young ages, but it sure makes getting everyone up and going difficult and stressful.
After Benjamin is bathed and both boys are fed, Stephen leaves for the shop and my day as stay-at-home mom begins.
I actually really love being a stay-at-home mother and I am convinced that nothing else in the world could be as fulfilling for me, but sometimes I find myself wondering what life would be like to be able to shower and get ready in the mornings again. It seems like an impossible dream right now...
So both boys are fed and generally pretty happy, so I'm happy. Benjamin gets down on his hands and knees, looks back at me, and says "Please!" This is code for "Mom, I would love it if you got down on your hands and knees too and chased me around." I thought about the bruises and carpet burn on my knees from previous chases that were finally healing, but of course I couldn't tell him no. While down on the floor chasing Benjamin, I became acutely aware of the need my kitchen has of a broom and mop and wondered when I'd have time to clean it. Probably not for another week, if we were being honest. My play time with Benjamin ended too soon when Ian started crying to be fed again. Of course Benjamin started crying, and for the millionth time since I became a mother I felt loads of guilt. I wondered if my short spurts of quality time with Benjamin would be sufficient to communicate to him how very much I loved him and prayed that it would, but still worried it wouldn't.
After I got Ian fed and down for his morning nap, my stomach reminded me that I hadn't had breakfast yet and I felt more guilt as I sat down to eat. And there I was in my oversized, stretched out pajamas, my hair matted and gross, and old makeup smudged under my eyes, eating a bowl of cereal. Benjamin came over begging for my food. The selfish part of me wanted to say, "You just ate. It's mommy's turn, so go away," but of course I didn't. I offered him some. As I watched my little boy crawl around on the kitchen floor taste-testing the crumbs, my heart was once again suddenly heavy with my responsibilities as his mother. I was overwhelmed with the thought about all the things I needed to teach him.
I thought about how he had tried to throw a toy car at Ian earlier this morning and wondered how I could teach him about kindness and compassion towards his brother. How do I teach him about love? How do I teach him about selflessness and consideration of others? How do I teach him how to dress himself? How to clean up after himself? How to share? How do I teach him which things he can touch and which things he cannot? How do I discipline him? How do I show him how to eat neatly, to use manners and be polite? How do I instill in him a love for learning? How do I teach him about respect? How do I teach him how to protect himself physically and spiritually? The questions went on and on and I felt more and more overwhelmed. And deep down, a quiet fear stirred inside me. A fear that I was inadequate.
The thought then occurred to me that I hadn't prayed yet that morning and I
sighed at my failure to have made that a priority. I've been trying to
figure out how to get a sincere morning prayer in with our crazy
mornings and I haven't been able to figure it out yet. My brain is still
too asleep to do it right when I get up and before I get the boys going.
I've tried to shut myself in the bathroom, but Benjamin always finds me
and pounds on the door until I open it. Sighing again, I prayed there
at the table, eyes opened to make sure Benjamin didn't inhale anything
detrimental to his health.
I quietly prayed that all of my efforts to teach my children and to show them that I loved them would be magnified and be made enough.
I have a firm testimony that the Holy Ghost, when we live worthy of it's companionship, has the ability to bring things to our remembrance that are needful for that time, and that is what happened to me this morning while I was at the table. Ever so gently and quietly, I remembered a talk I had heard long ago about the importance of teaching children. The thought that had stuck with me the most was this: the most important things you can ever teach your children is about their identity as a child of God, the love of their Savior, and the gospel. The Holy Ghost testified to me that that was my most important responsibility, and that if I do all I can to teach my children those things, then everything else they need to know will fall into place. I felt immediate relief and peace.
Of course all of those other things are important and will help to shape the character of my children and they should therefore not be neglected, but God reminded me this morning of what was most important, and that if I made the most important things my focus, He could help me do the rest. He also reminded me that all He requires is my absolute best, even if that best doesn't look like much and changes from day to day. How grateful I am to know that I am not in this parenting business alone, and because of God's grace, any imperfection I may have in raising my children can be compensated.
