to my little children,

i lie awake most nights wondering what you will remember about your childhood. will you remember the good little glimpses of each day? when you all laugh and tickle daddy, or help me grind wheat and are so proud of how strong you were? will you remember all the nights that we tucked you in, and read to you, and prayed with you and washed your hair? these are the moments i cling my memories too.

i know that you will remember the daily things that happen here that are not good. the sibling rivalry fights, the lost toy tears, the dirty shirt woes 10 minutes before the bus comes. the tired and cranky mom that yells when you dawdle, or yells when you aren't listening, or yells when you hit each other. the cereal dinners and the hot lunch days. the stressful sunday mornings. the crying, the crying, oh the crying in the car.

i worry about you the most lucy. i worry because i had to learn how to be a mom with you, and i'm still learning. i've made all my mistakes on you, and i still am messing up every day. you had to deal with my depression bouts and took all the heat. you had to be the one that i potty trained and i'm always sorry for that.  i expect so much out of you, because i know you have the capacity to be so good, so kind, so obedient.  i forget that you are a child and are learning too. i worry so much because your siblings love you and want to be just like you, the good and the bad. i think that's why i try to force so much good out of you.

i worry that you all will think that i didn't enjoy being a mother. because i'm always complaining about how tired i am, and how stressed i am, and oh, how i can't get anything done around here. i worry that you see my face when people say, "wow! all 4 are yours?" and i laugh and ask, "yes, would you like one or two?".  i'm just being sarcastic, that's something you won't understand for many years. mom's sarcastic and she's trying to get better, ok?

i do love all of you. each and every one of you. from each hair on your head to your toenails that grow freakishly fast.  i don't regret any of your pregnancies, or what you did to my body and my brain (both are mush now). i don't mind the wrinkles and stretch marks. i don't mind the grey hairs and the red eyes from late nights. i don't mind that you are all pukers whenever anything hits the house. i don't mind that you are all loud and rambunctious. i don't mind that i don't have nice clothes or nice hair. i don't mind that you all want my attention all the time, every day.

i do mind that you are good and kind. honest and thoughtful. prayerful and thankful. all your dad and i have ever wanted for your lives was happiness and kindness. we are tying to give that to you, but know that we aren't perfect and we are trying. and if you read this before you have kids, wait a few years and read it again. and then call me and forgive me for all the mistakes i've made. i'm pretty sure i'll lie awake 30 years from now still worrying about each and every one of you.

love,
mom