It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are, even if we tell it only to ourselves - because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and full are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing."
- Frederick Buechner
It is these children that see me most completely as I really am. They are the only ones on the planet to see angry enough to throw an empty shoebox across the room because someone insisted they need help going to the bathroom again because they are afraid of the fly buzzing on the window. They are the only ones to see me frustrated enough to growl and scream and stamp my foot when I get interrupted again and can't finish reading two paragraphs together in the newspaper without someone needing more toast or another drink. They are the only ones who see me frightened enough to drop the baby and grab up a boy and rush to the sink when he trips over a toy and busts his lip open and spews blood all over me. They are the only ones who have ever heard me rage Just shut up! in the middle of the night because I so deserately wanted to sleep.
They are the only ones getting my adoration for the curve of their foreheads, the fold of their necks, the tender turn of their toes. The ones' whose hair I cut, or let grow too long and just admire and try not to complain about finding in the drain. They are the ones for whom I cook in a hot kitchen, get on my knees to scrub the jam off the floor, clean the toilet and endure traffic jams. For whom I gather my courage and figure out how to pay the bills, schedule and show up for doctor's appointments, socialize with strangers, find a roofer and a plumber. The ones who need English essays edited during the morning rush, five or six reminders to clean the cat box, and sometimes even a lost temper in order to get off the couch. Those who expect a check written at the last minute, new shoes a week before payday, trips to the ER in the middle of a work day. For whom I learn new things, face old demons, battle bad habits, learn my own body and fight for health. For just one or many more days of jam and bad smells and those priceless smiles. No one else knows the real me like they do. That is just one of the treasures they offer, these boys of mine.