I’m not the best mom. I am honest enough to admit that. But, I do love my kids! They are precious to me; in a milli-second I would give my life for them. They are my delight.

I love them even when they drive me crazy and I find myself yelling. I remember a couple of years ago, the girls had gotten caught doing the very thing I had demanded they not do, and I lost it. I just started yelling at them. Frustrated with their lack of obedience and my lack of self-control, I screamed, “I AM NOT A YELLER!” picture spit flying, hair blown back, and little eyes wide. And, I wasn’t lying, well, not completely. In my nature, I’m not a yeller, I’m non- confrontational, I’m rational. But that day I was feeling extra “fleshly”. I would be tempted to believe that was an isolated incident but it was not, indicated by the time my neighbor’s daughter stated, “Mizz Lazlie…You sure do like to yell.” Ugh – Like a ten ton brick lobbed at my toe! Then she said, “My mom yells a lot, too!” And like that I was relieved. I shouldn’t have been. I mean the evidence of my temper had just crushed my toe, but, with that bit of information – that another well meaning Christian mom was a yeller, too! – Well, it was a comfort. I even had the audacity to think, “Her poor kids.”

I love them even when I don’t listen. I try to listen. I really do, but there are moments when I’m driving and they’ve hollered my name a million times and I finally snap, “What???” And they say, “Right?” And then I’m caught. I’m stuck and I’m caught. I could say, “Yes,” but with my luck they would have been talking about taking a trip to Disney or to Hawaii. I could say, “No,” but then I’m left with the possibility that one of them had argued that she was my natural born daughter. The flood works would have started and the feelings of inferiority… So I was honest. “I’m sorry what were we talking about?” As if the “we” in that might confuse them enough to think I might have actually been listening all along. Nope. “You never listen!” and like that, she hit the bullseye with an arrow to the heart. I could have argued her “never” but instead I pulled up my pity pants and said, “I’m sorry.”

I love them even when I’m hurt by their words, or sick and can’t take care of them, or tired and I can’t see to read a bedtime story, or busy and I can’t stop to pee much less watch a movie! And they love me … Even when.

But I was thinking today, as I was out, “I’m gonna do something special!” So I headed over to our local Asian grocery store and picked up keem and mandu and pockey. For the non-educated in all things Korean that is: seaweed, dumplings (gyoza for sushi bar frequenters), and chocolate covered pretzel sticks (for dessert, of course!) I had so much fun thinking about how much my kids would enjoy their simple Korean meal that I found myself humming, and even the Vietnamese lady and her horn-rimmed glasses didn’t deter me. I was playing the part of the doting mother, because even if I yell or don’t listen or forget or so many other things I’m reluctant to admit, my kids can’t deny the fact that I dote!

I’m not the best mom, but I love my kids! Heck, they’re my kids! Perfection doesn’t run in my genes. But I’m perfect for them since God obviously chose me to mother them, and they’re perfect for me because they keep me humble. And tonight, were having a perfectly simple Korean meal. (I’m actually hoping that makes up for yesterday when I apparently misunderstood my daughter’s “LIKE” for “like” and should have let her play longer with the boy who will heretofore remain nameless.) Sigh. That’s just delightful.