100 Things

This past week the kids reached their 100th day of school. Atleigh's class, especially, made a really big deal out of it. They encouraged them to dress up, to bring in 100 items, to make it a big celebration. "I'm 100 days smarter!"

That's how I found myself, at 1am the night before the 100th day of school, scrounging through my bathroom drawers for Q-tips. Chloe had spilled the box in one of the drawers months before, and instead of picking them up, I'd just left them. I desperately picked them up by twos, sticking them in a Ziploc, and knowing that there was no way I would reach 100. 

That's when I started detailing in my mind the 100 things I'm bad at. Surely a good mom would have had her child's one hundred things for 100 Day already bagged and labeled and sent in to class before the day of. Surely a good mom would have already picked up the Q-tips up and put them back in the box, or thrown them away, or done whatever it is that good moms do. They certainly don't find themselves crouched on the floor in their pajamas while the whole household is asleep, freezing on the stone tile and counting Q-tips by twos. 

The truth is, there are 100 things I'm bad at. Good God, there are probably 10 times 100. 100 times 100. I could, unfortunately, list them all, starting right then with "poor planner". I don't volunteer at my kids' school enough. I'm a terrible housekeeper: it's a toss up over whether I hate cooking or laundry more. My stress threshold is low. My sleeping patterns are ridiculous. I could go on and on, from the little things, all the way down to the deep, dark things that plague me from the inside out. 

But why?

Why do I need to list those things? And why was my first instinct to remind myself of the hundred things I'm bad at? I make my kids laugh. I sing to them. I can do a mean British accent. I take pictures of them, little random memories that they'll be able to look back on and smile over. And God knows I love them. I love them so much my heart breaks with it, pouring down their heads like oil, like perfume from the alabaster box. They may not be able to feel it now, but one day they will. My question is, why don't we list these things first?

Moms. Dads. Parents. Let's do this for each other: let's clasp hands. Let's love each other, encourage each other. And for every one thing one of us finds wrong with ourselves, someone else should be there, saying, "But there are a hundred things you're doing right!" Whatever is true. Whatever is noble. Whatever is right, and pure. Let's think on those things. Let's grace each other, stand shoulder to shoulder, and raise these kids who are going to be directing our world in a few years in a way that shows them it's okay to mess up, it's okay to fall down, as long as you get back up and remind yourself you have a hundred reasons to. 

Those are the 100 things I'll think on. 

{{And at the very top of the list of things I do right, is throw together a costume for events like 100 Day. Scroll down for this week's photo dump and Atleigh's 100 Day photo session.}}