For the last several weeks, I've been nearly certain that I'm not cut out for motherhood. Every time my son comes home with a behavior record (we're up to 3 as of today), every time one of them punches somebody, every time I run out of patience for the arguing, every time I have to tell the youngest to wash and then "with soap," every time he whines for a snack, or whenever we're at church. *sigh*
It takes a woman with a much stronger constitution than I have, a woman who is much more fun than I am, a woman who tolerates noise and chaos and messes more than I do, and a woman who is much more energetic and creative than I am.
So, on our way back to the car, in the parking lot of the grocery, when you said, "you're a good mom," you'll have to forgive me for waiting to say "thank you" until you were almost out of earshot. Your comment was too unexpected. I wish I had turned around and run after you to thank you. But since I couldn't help releasing the flood of emotions that I've been carefully protecting lately, it's probably best that I didn't.
Blonde woman on her way to the grocery, for your kind words and generous spirit, "Thank You."






