The Plaque

So, this morning I discovered something. Something "terrible, just terrible!!"






Was it a bottle with year old milk in it?? No.

Was it a year old DIAPER?? No.

Was it super thick mud tracked all over the carpet?? No.

No, it was none of these things but still it yeilded up feelings that dwarfed feelings of finding year old gross stuff or tons of mud in the house. It was a little wooden piece to James' train stuff. On it was scrawled ...

. . .

. . .





. . .




















D'oh!! And I was working so hard!! And doing my best!! What little words! Doesn't the author of the tiny words understand and comprehend all the thousands of diapers I've changed, meals I've made, messes I've cleaned, clothes I've changed, baths, walks, worries, worries, worries, sleepless nights, more worries, and years devoted to trying to bring up a single...no, wait THREE growing children!!


Oh!! The disappointment of it all!!


So, I guess that's it. I am officially a bad mom. (!!!)



Actually, what REALLY happened was this morning Brad and I were talking and I happened to look down and notice "the plaque" and picked it up. Brad and I both chuckled. James must have put down his feelings after a trip to his room.

Yet!! Even though we laughed over it I still felt a twinge of failure...sometimes being a mom is tough. Popularity is sometimes not a given. HOWEVER, as I sit here contemplating my popularity with the potty trained population at my house I DO have to remember all the pictures, cards, hearts, and hugs I get. And remember that I am loved and thought of, and shown love in many sweet ways. Appartently, just not all the time!!! : )

OK. More of the "rest of the story":

The kids were picking up their toys later on and I picked up "the plaque" again and to James asked, "What's this?"

With a semi-embarrassed smile he reached out and took it and said, "Oh, that's something I wrote a long time ago."

Me: "Oh, what happened when you wrote it?"

James: "I had to go to my room."