Thoughts on Being a Mom - Written on Mother"s Day

I think I must have wanted to be a mom my whole life.  I know because I remember the games I played.  As little girls, Cam and I would play pretend "church".  The sacrament meeting was held in the basement and the pews were the bottom stairs.  We would bounce our baby dolls in our laps while we took turns bearing our testimonies.  Inevitably, while one of us was at the “pulpit” (a boom box with the antenna extended for a microphone) pouring out our soul in fake tears, the others baby would become fussy.  We would look apologetic and exasperated before slinking out of the “chapel”, careful not to make eye contact with the rest of the congregation.  This must be an innate skill.

By the time I was 10, I had proof of my ambition.  That summer I shopped a garage sale with Mom and the sisters.  I was sorting through piles of baby clothes for baby Jess when I found a tiny plaid button up shirt for a dime.  I knew a bargain when I saw one so I bought that shirt and tucked it into my cedar chest.  Over the next few years my career aspirations changed (at one point I dreamed of being a cashier who could look bored while  my fingers flew over the keys on a register), but through it all, I still hoped to be a mom.  Twenty-two years after the garage sale summer, I've dressed four babies in that tiny plaid shirt.  And every time I do I am reminded how lucky I am.  How many people grow up to be exactly what they want to be?     

(As for the cashier gig - there is still time.)

Two month old Tag dressed in the shirt that is becoming a family heirloom.