A letter to my children on Mothers Day

My Dear Children,

I feel that I have little to offer in the way of 'words of wisdom'. I have done my best to raise you as *mostly* well balanced human beings who know not to eat with your mouth open and not to be rude to old people. But on this day, as I examine my roll as a mother and my level of success in that roll, I feel that I have let you down. So, my precious children, as you head out into the world there are some things I want you to know...

I love you so incredibly much that I can't put it into words. I don't love you enough to let you sit on my lap while I go to the toilet... there are such things as boundaries and I would be a poor example of a mother if I didn't teach you this.

I am so proud of you when I see you share. It swells my heart and makes me want to scoop you up and hug you forever. Wiping your boogers on someone else' shirt, however, does not come under the banner of sharing. Wiping your boogers on MY shirt is just plain gross.

I love to see your sense of justice developing. Seeing you fight for the weaker ones around. Watching you make sure no one misses out. I love all these moments! Flogging a toy off one brother so that the other brother can have it is not justice.

I have tried my best to teach you to be frugal. To use things up before you throw them out. I love to see the creations you make out of empty boxes. Hauling the Doritos packet out of the bin, taking the dead battery and other junk out of it and then gobbling up the crumbs in the bottom of the packet is a little extreme. How about we just stick with making sure the toothpaste tube is empty before it gets binned and stuff like that.

Compassion for animals is another admirable quality that I have tried to instill in you. Caring for animals who cannot care for themselves will teach you so much in life. But please, lets stop crying over every fossilised frog and gecko we find in the house. If they are silly enough to hop behind a bookshelf into the dust then they will just have to deal with the outcome.

I pray that you will keep your fantastic imagination. I love to see you pretending to be something or someone else, to listen to the stories that you come up with, to see you acting out amazingly intricate storylines with your GI Joes and HotWheels. There are times that we do need to draw the line between imagination and real life... like when sticking in character will get you killed. No more cement mixers sinking to the bottom of the pool, no pterodactyls soaring through the air from the cubby house. No more. Ever.

Your love for your brothers is heartwarming. It makes me go all soft and gooey to see the way you all love each other so much. I would ask, however, that when one has a vomiting bug, a cold, a cough, whatever, that you show that love not with affection but rather by keeping your distance so you don't all get the bug and in turn infect me. Love is not found in 38478 extra loads of washing, in spite of what those gushy mothers day poems say.

I love to see you teaching your brothers new and exciting things. Teaching them how to turn the bucket over for the perfect sandcastle, sharing your knowledge of the stars at night, reading a book together, teaching them how to maneuver the skateboard to do that neat trick you just did. Teaching them the best places to hide an apple core in the playroom so you don't have to walk 5 metres to the bin does not count. Teaching them to eat their boogers to save time getting a tissue does not count either. Teaching them how to intricately wind the words "poo" and "wee" *legitimately* into a conversation so mummy can't get cranky at you is also not something I am thrilled with. Yes, I am sure.

So to the ones who are the reason that I so proudly wear the label "Mother", I love you, now please get off my lap so I can finish on the toilet and wash my hands...