This morning was that kind of morning, like re-gluing googly eyes on a penguin to pacify my youngest daughter. And offering fashion advice to my 13 year old daughter who was in a conundrum over what kind of shoes to wear to with that polka dot top. For my son, the middle child, deciding whether an after school activity trumps the weekly chess matches at the library.
And this all goes on all at the same time. Oops, let's not forgot about the 50+ lb. puppy who is sniffing the two, yes two, urine spots on the carpet from the night before (that were cleaned, mind you) but still evident this morning.
I'm thankful that I did not raise my voice even though there was a lecture-ish tone in it. I'm thankful that I did not cry over my spilled (beloved-home-brewed-by-my-husband) Starbucks coffee. I'm thankful that allowed my son to make his own decisions without influencing him with my own thoughts. I'm thankful that somehow, some day, my husband will steam clean the heck out of those urine spots.
I wasn't always this patient, let me restate that, I'm not always this patient, I'm still learning. Still learning with 13 years of motherhood under my belt. Still learning that these moments, even the bittersweet ones, like holding my youngest because she can't stop coughing, will fly through my hands leaving me with only faded memories of what it was like when my nest was full.
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