The Small Stuff

The other day I came up to where my daughter had been playing. As I looked down, I loved what I saw.

There's something about a mother's care that is completely precious. And even though River is only 5, she has loved playing "Mommy" since she was 1. I wish I could say that I set the perfect example for her...but I can't.

This morning was one of those days where I was wishing I was on a Hawaiian vacation by 9am. I was irritated and stressed, and we were late...again. As we walked into preschool, I said hello to one of the teachers, and said something like, "I don't know why it's so hard to get here." And she just smiled and said with that older, wiser, and peaceful tone, "It's not a big deal. It's just the small stuff. It doesn't matter."

And I thought about how right she was. The truth is that the small stuff doesn't really matter at all. It doesn't matter that snot flew everywhere right when we getting into the car and I didn't have a tissue anywhere, so I had to just use my hand to help wipe it off (thankfully I found a napkin, and had hand sanitizer in the car). Or that my son couldn't get his boots on, and had to do it himself, and so we were a few more minutes behind. Or that the raincoats were so bulky that it took me 10 minutes to get the kids in the car seats. And all the little things that happen that usually make us at least 5 minutes late. That stuff really doesn't matter all that much.

The things that matter are the kisses at night. The comfort that I get to give when they hurt themselves. The songs we sing together. The hugs that let them know that I love them. The time spent playing even when the house is a wreck. The books that I get to snuggle up to with them. The cookies that I bake with them. The truth that I get to speak into their lives. The stories that I pass on to the next generation. Those are the things that matter. And those are the things I want to care more about.