And the day came when life wasn’t just about me anymore.  I was a mother.  I remember the first day I was home alone with my first born.  I never left the bedroom all day because that’s where the baby was.  When my husband came home from work I asked if he could bring me up a bagel before he left for work the next day so that I could eat.  Fast forward to my third child and I was home four hours after giving birth and sending out an announcement by email.  The juggling had begun.

I remember all those years of car seats and swimming lessons.  Play centres and mommy groups.  Libraries and collecting leaves.

And then one day I realized we were having conversations.  These three little people had opinions.  And dreams.  And ideas.

As I look at the piles of artwork that mark the years, I don’t know where the time has gone.  But I do know that I wouldn’t change a thing.  The dish-filled kitchen sinks, the fingerprints on the glass, the mounds of school bags and hockey bags and dance bags.  Because this imperfect, crazy mess is our life and it’s perfect to me.

As we celebrate Mother’s Day, I hope mothers everywhere realize that they are doing the best they can and that all their children really need in life is unconditional love and support.  They thrive on presence.

The one thing I will never forget from my childhood is that my mom’s eyes lit up every time I came into the room.  And it made me feel like I was enough.

That is the gift a mother can give.