So here's the dilemma:
A child forgets to take a very important assignment to school in the morning.
Here are three ways of dealing with it: (Can you match one of my kids to each response?) Maybe you have some of these same kids at your house.
Child #1: MOM!!!! I need you to bring me my paper right now! It's on the floor by the back door next to my sweats, jacket, dirty socks, etc. It's worth half my grade and it's due in 10 minutes!
Child #2: Mom, do you think you can bring my assignment to school sometime today? It's not due until 4th period. I'm so sorry that I forgot it. If you can't that's ok. I'll talk to my teacher and see what I can do.
Child #3: Assignment? What assignment? I didn't even know we had a paper due today.
If you guessed them by birth order, you were right. Oh, some days I want to call it quits, and other days I love them so much that I'm brought to tears just thinking of them. My sister in law emailed this incredible story about mothers. I really needed it that day (thanks, Cindy) and so I now pass it on to all the hard working moms who need a pat on the back sometimes.
The Invisible Mother
"It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask me a question.
Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'
Obviously, not.
No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.
I'm invisible. The invisible Mom.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.
She's going; she's going; she is gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place.
It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women."
The girls had fun sledding down it, but Jake got out his full ski gear. I filmed a little bit, but went in before he perfected his ski jump at the end. 
I love my husband and best friend so much and am so thankful for "us." 
I am so blessed to have 3 amazing kids who are all very different but bless my life in their own special ways. This is just a random picture of Brendan and Allison taken on Christmas Eve but I love how it captures their fun yet tender relationship.
I am so thankful for being born to the best parents in the whole world and though I have missed them terribly, I'm thankful for their example and for their faith to serve a mission at this time and anxiously anticipate their return this summer. 
My life would not be complete without the special bond that I share with my closest friends. I am especially grateful this year for the closeness we have all gained by praying for and serving my friend Michele's beautiful baby Gracie. Her life is a modern day miracle and our lives will forever be changed by her story. We continue to pray for little miracles everyday and for a successful 2nd heart surgery coming up.
