There is a particular day many years ago that resonates deep within me in my memories of being a young mom.  Michelle was a preschooler at the time and she had taken the milk jar out of the refrigerator to pour herself a glass of milk.  I had probably said to her just before that, "I'll help you in a minute", but she just couldn't wait, and well, let's just say she poured more milk on the kitchen floor than the glass.  Bella was just a few weeks old, I was exhausted in every possible way and the last thing I wanted to deal with that day, was a jug of spilled milk all over the kitchen floor.  When I heard the container hit the floor and the splish splash of the milk, I had two choices.  To put on my Mary Poppins cape and calmly help Michelle or to put on my Wicked Witch of the West hat and make a fool out of myself.  In a moment of grace, I went with the Mary Poppins version of me.

I remember having to pause, taking a deep breath and thinking "you can do this Maria!"  I finally gathered enough inner wisdom and decided to approach Michelle.  I padded her on the back and told her that accidents happen and that we would clean up the mess together and she could get another glass of milk when we were done cleaning up.  It ended up being the perfect solution for everyone.  Had I overreacted, it would've affected not only my relationship with Michelle that day, but also my communication with Stan and the way I connected with my brand new baby.

With that being said, please don't picture me as the Dalai Lama, I am FAR from being that.  When I was raising babies, I had plenty of impatient moments when my busy and tired body got on the way of offering my better self to them, but that spilled milk episode centered me every time.  I tried to remind myself that if I had had the wisdom to react gracefully that day, I could do it again and again and again.

Michelle is twenty years old now (fully capable of pouring herself a glass of milk) and Bella is almost sixteen.  They no longer spill milk; but one is a young adult trying to find her place in the world, and the other one is a teenager with the highest dose of energy, enthusiasm and soaring emotions.  You do the math.  I might not be cleaning up "food messes" anymore, but I still find myself going back to that spilled milk moment episode for wisdom and grace from time to time.

Parenting is not a stroll in the park, parenting is HARD, but it's also incredibly rewarding.  Parenting has taught me a great deal about myself.  It has taught me patience, endurance, perseverance and so much more.  I have learned to love unconditionally and in the deepest of ways and in return, I'd like to think that it has helped me become a better person. 

Parenting is about making ordinary moments, extraordinary and as our children grow older and start making decisions of their own, is about learning the art of letting go... ah, how challenging this can be at times.  Most importantly, parenting is about savoring every second we have the opportunity to be there for our children and appreciating the miracle of life as we journey through it together.  There is nothing I love most in this world, that being a mom.

Tell your children often how proud you are of them and how much you love them; they will carry your love wherever they go.