A collection of gladness

Mark told me that he thinks he loves me more than most boys his age love their mothers.

There's a reason that kid is sort of spoiled rotten.

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I love tutoring my dear students.  I love dreaming and scheming about ways to help them and then sitting on the floor in front of my book case of chapter books and picking books to tempt them.

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Emma has a concert tonight and I love Emma's concerts.  Watching her face while she sings fills my soul.

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This is Us is destroying me.  How can I love a show that makes me cry ugly tears every time I watch it?  I don't know.  But I do love it.

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Sunday afternoon Adam was napping and Emma was sick so she hadn't come over and Mark had disappeared in the basement.  Braeden and I lay on the couch, heads on opposite ends (it's a big couch) and talked.  Those are the kind of moments I treasure as a mother.  Those are the kinds of things you can't put a price on.

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Also on Sunday we watched a few family videos at Braeden's request.  Adam and I talked later about how fortunate we have been.  What a happy life we've had.

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I read a great article in the January Ensign Helping Children Choose.  A really hard part of parenting for me is that line where you give them autonomy.  You can ask my kids; I'm not great at it.  I turn the reins over to them then I give a million suggestions.  I told Braeden that he had to buy his own clothes from now on and then I bought him a bunch of new clothes.  I realized the other day that everyone I talk to about college/adult children and their independence has a slightly different strategy.  Everyone I talk to handles the finances and decisions and self sufficiency a little differently.

And everyone's kids are turning out more or less OK.

One of the great blessings of motherhood is the resilience of children as I struggle along, over thinking and dripping self doubt and half-baked ideas.  The kids are OK, despite me.  They're OK.