February 9

I'm far from a perfect parent. I try not to focus much on how often I fail my kids because if I did, I probably wouldn't be able to get up in the morning. But I'm fortunate that they extend grace to me when I do make mistakes.

Isaac had to stay up later than usual tonight working on an assignment, and since the Little Boys tend to travel in a mini-pack, Brady refused to go to bed until his bigger brother did the same. I was in full Night Mode, listening to music as I booked it on my treadmill, and I really didn't appreciate him peppering me with questions while I tried to zone.

When I finished walking, he showed me the homemade Valentine he'd made and said that he needed to make a bunch more for school next week. Enter: mom fail. I told him that it was a nice card, but that his family would probably appreciate the effort far more than his friends. His little face fell, and in that moment, I knew I'd made a mistake. I never want to discourage his creativity or hurt his feelings, so it tore at my heart to know that I'd done both of those things in one fell swoop.

I called him over and held him in my arms as I whispered an apology. He didn't say much, but a few minutes later, he gifted me by falling asleep. I can't remember the last time one of my little ones fell asleep on me, so I closed my eyes and breathed it in as I listened to the rain tap, tap, tapping at the window.

I wish I was a better person, but as the hymn sagely says, grace is amazing. And we can only feel the depth of that grace when we make mistakes -- and own them.