When I grow up I want to be a mother and have a family,
one little, two little, three little babies of my own.
Of all the jobs for me I’ll choose no other I’ll have a family,
four little, five little, six little babies in my home.
And I will love them all day long and give them cookies and milk
And yellow balloons,
And cuddle them when things go wrong and read them stories
And sing them pretty tunes….
~~~~~
As a little girl this song was my jam. I wanted All. Of. It.
And now, when I look at the family picture that hangs in my kitchen, I see all of it. I see the six little babies (plus two with my Lydia and Jaye), I see the cookies and milk moments, the yellow balloons, the cuddles and tunes.
And my heart is full.
But I also see, when I look at this picture, the 2016 Thanksgiving day from hell.
I see a family late for dinner, an unfinished turkey, chaos and complaining, the broken promise of a green bean casserole (and I take green bean casserole very seriously). I see a mother who, in desperation, threw on her Dustin from Stranger Things emoji shirt because she couldn’t show up in her pajamas (I love my Dustin from Stranger Things emoji shirt but I’m just saying that it would be better if it wasn’t at the center of our picture) and I see the feud of the century that took place on our front driveway–because I guess we were trying to heed the counsel of President David O Mckay and not yell in our home.
But mostly, when I look at this picture, I see a family. An imperfect yet oh so very perfect family. A family full of forgiveness, generosity, genuine happiness and love. So much love.
And I smile at that little girl, dancing and singing to her jam in her living room so long ago, and thank her for her dream. Her beautiful, magical dream of motherhood.
It’s all she ever imagined it to be. And so much more.