Some days I forget that my children are blessings.
Some days I forget that they are a gift to me, on loan, I am to nurture them, love them, take care of them, socialize and form them.
Some days I forget that what matters to me most is the relationships that I foster within my home, and how those relationships are a reflection of my relationship with God.
Some days I forget that I can run to Him, in all the noise and frustration of life.
Some days I forget to be the grown up and have a self indulgent hissy fit. Only after carefully considering all the other possibilities of ways I could react, and prudently weighing the pros and cons of my actions, and then thoughtfully pondering the consequences of said hissy fit, I proceed, lava-like, to move hot and burning through my morning.
They retreat, quickly, to various corners of our home trying to avoid lava mama.
But I am stealth.
In time, I cool down. But the trail my self indulgence is almost more than I can bear to look at.
My babies. I hold them. They forgive me. Peace is restored.
Some days I forget that it really is easier just to be the grown up.