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<h5 style="padding-left: 270px;">Photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/fooey/">foéÖþoooey</a></h5>
<strong>I'm feeling really good this morning.</strong>

Well, I'm all stuffed up and snotty, it's bitter cold and grey outside, and Jason is out of town. All of this means I've set the bar really low, which probably has a lot to do with why I'm feeling so good about the morning. But there's nothing wrong with that, is there?

On mornings when Jason is home, we function like a well-oiled machine. I get in the shower while he starts breakfast. I pack lunches while he plays bell hop for the girls, helping them with a random assortment of needs that mostly involve finding missing shoes and library books. I walk the girls to school (well, at least the littlest one, who still holds my hand), and Jason gets his shower.

This is <em>not</em> how I expect things to go when I'm parenting on my own.
<h4>Sometimes everything goes right when you least expect it (surprise!)</h4>
This morning, although I was bracing myself for general chaos and the need for my Stern Voice, all went smoothly. Even swimmingly.

S, our eight-year-old night owl, woke up early, all on her own, got dressed and was downstairs reading before I was even out of bed. Q (10) didn't have any clothing crises. H (12) was well-rested and not frantically finishing homework. Everyone was happy and calm.

Even me. When H requested a fried egg and Q and S wanted soft boiled, I thought "no problem—I can do both." (And I did, without breaking any yokes.) I finished packing lunches, made a French braid in S's hair, and calmly informed Q that she would be walking her sister to school this morning (seeing as how I was still in my pajamas).

I even had the time and presence to really hug them all and smile, looking them in the eyes as I said goodbye. (Note: I <em>always</em> hug them as I send them off, but many mornings it feels more rushed and absent-minded than I'd like.)
<h4>Simultaneously learning and letting go</h4>
As I sit in the quiet house (still in my pajamas, but hey), reflecting on what went right this morning and how I can ensure a repeat tomorrow morning, two ideas are taking shape:

1. In many ways, I set the tone for the morning—by how I said good morning to each of the girls, by my relaxed body language as I moved around the kitchen, and in the way I asked for help buttering the toast and fixing the tea. I took on an over-arching, nothing-will-exasperate-me attitude, and it made a difference. I know it might seem kind of strange to be taking note of this. I mean, I <em>am</em> an adult, right? This is pretty basic stuff. But I know I often forget how quickly my tone spills over onto others around me, and how naturally they absorb it.

2. Even knowing and applying this knowledge, I realize tomorrow morning might go horribly. Someone might oversleep. Someone might use all the hot water. There might be bickering, or scrambling around to find some critical piece of homework. If this is how tomorrow goes, I'm going to try really hard not to kick myself, or find someone to pin the blame on. I'm also going to try really hard not to compare one morning with the morning before it, and assume it went badly because I did something wrong.

<strong>In general, I think it's great that we can learn from mistakes, think strategically about solving problems, and find ways to emulate our best moments and repeat our best responses.</strong>

<strong>But there's a danger in thinking that we can "make things work."</strong>

First of all, it isn't a realistic way to see ourselves, so it's bound to affect how we treat ourselves. I spend too much time beating myself up over how I "should have known better" or "could have done something better." And it's not helpful.

Many factors play into every moment, every day. I am not responsible for all of them. Even the ones I am somewhat responsible for can't go off without a hitch time and time again. If they did, I would be perfect, or pretty close to it, wouldn't I? And if I think perfection is even <em>approachable</em>, how does that affect my treatment of my kids, and Jason, and others?

So today, I am grateful that the morning went smoothly. I will learn something from it, but I'm not going to pat myself on the back for it and raise the bar for tomorrow. Instead, I think I will shore up my supply of grace and acceptance, so I'm ready to extend it to myself, and others.