Eighteen years ago today, I cut the cord of a 6lb baby girl. I celebrated and wept with her birth-mother as we gazed into her sweet stork-kissed face. She was going to be adopted...my moments with her, I thought, brief. But God was writing a different ending to the first chapter of this baby girl's life. And no more than 96 hours later, this baby girl became Anna Marie Ruch--my daughter. Happy Birthday, Anna!!! It is a joy to be your mother. :)
Friday, February 19, 2010
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Confessions of an Imperfect Mom
“Mom, where are my cleats?”
“Mommy, where’s my back pack? ”
“Mahhhther, I can’t find any socks…”
I have to admit, I don’t always respond well when my kids whine because they can’t find their stuff. I’ve been known to quip back cynically, “I don’t know where your cleats are. I haven’t worn them lately.” Or I do my best martyr impression as I mumble under my breath for all to hear, “Am I the only person in this house that knows where anything is?” I never hear them ask their father these questions.
Oh, the never-ending demands of motherhood. It’s hard being the one my children rely on. Yet, I’ve found when I respond to my kids with frustration and cynicism, they tend to copy my tone and my attitude. And that’s not the kind of home I want. So I take a deep breath and try again...
“Your socks? Sorry… they’re in the pile of dirty laundry, kiddo.”
Well, no mom’s perfect!
A wise woman builds her house; a foolish one tears it down with her own hands (or mouth, in my case). Proverbs 14:1
“Mommy, where’s my back pack? ”
“Mahhhther, I can’t find any socks…”
I have to admit, I don’t always respond well when my kids whine because they can’t find their stuff. I’ve been known to quip back cynically, “I don’t know where your cleats are. I haven’t worn them lately.” Or I do my best martyr impression as I mumble under my breath for all to hear, “Am I the only person in this house that knows where anything is?” I never hear them ask their father these questions.
Oh, the never-ending demands of motherhood. It’s hard being the one my children rely on. Yet, I’ve found when I respond to my kids with frustration and cynicism, they tend to copy my tone and my attitude. And that’s not the kind of home I want. So I take a deep breath and try again...
“Your socks? Sorry… they’re in the pile of dirty laundry, kiddo.”
Well, no mom’s perfect!
A wise woman builds her house; a foolish one tears it down with her own hands (or mouth, in my case). Proverbs 14:1
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