One beautiful autumn afternoon we were playing out in the back garden.  I was raking together the leaves that had fallen from our maple tree into a pile and my daughter was doing her best job at running through the pile, kicking the leaves and scattering them everywhere.  I know the real reason why Heavenly Father created deciduous trees – it is so his children could thrive in joy as they kick the fallen leaves about.

I will never forget the purity and simplicity of her impressionable and logical mind when I explained to her that as the maple leaves change colour from a luscious green to royal red and gold in autumn when the weather starts to cool, the leaves fall off the tree.  My daughter, in her beautiful line of thinking, proceeds to pick up a handful of the fallen leaves, walk over to the maple tree and stick them back onto the trunk of the tree.

This scene has left a permanent impression on me.  It captures the innocence and sensibility of her thought process.  It reminds me of the importance of my role in teaching her, allowing and encouraging her to encounter things first hand.  It helps define the childhood I want her to experience.

Being a mother is by far the greatest achievement I have.  I love and relish the responsibility Heavenly Father has given me in raising some of his daughters.  I am their teacher,  their best friend,  their playmate,  their storyteller,  their dancing partner and their cheerleader.

It never ceases to amaze me -  the brilliant intuition of Heavenly Father’s divine plan in bestowing upon women the sacred role and responsibility of being a mother.  I know that if we didn’t experience 9 months worth of ups and downs, we wouldn’t appreciate to the same degree the joy, happiness and love therein.  In some respect, we need the pain, discomfort, stretch marks and sickness to completely understand and embrace the joy, happiness and beauty of the mother and child bond.  I savour the reciprocal nature of the relationship between a mother and her child.  It is established at birth and will continue forever.  I need her as much as she needs me.  As she grows, I grow.  As she learns, I learn.  As she discovers, I discover.  Therefore, the more that she is doing, the more I am too.

I have come to the conclusion that:

§    Sand belongs in a baby’s nappy

§    Dirt is small and gritty so that it will fit under tiny fingernails

§    Grazes on a child’s knee is an indicator of fun and play

§    Unsuspecting snails are asking for it

§    White couches are actually blank canvasses

§    Spaghetti bolognaise tastes so good, that it makes sense to share it with the floor too

§    The family cat makes an excellent substitute dolly if you want to push something around in your toy stroller, especially when dolly is nowhere to be found

§    The only food ducks eat is white bread that has been handed out by small children – and, if it’s good enough for the ducks, it’s good enough for the kids too

§    Bath-time isn’t bath-time unless you are in the bath too and bath-time isn’t over until your child’s skin is as wrinkly as a prune

§    Rain falls purely for the purpose of making puddles

§    Mud-baths are free and the best kind can be found on the shores of Lake Jindabyne

I adore the way her face lights up when she shines a torch on a ring-tail possum that is eating fruit from a tree, or when the pitch and enthusiasm of her voice heightens as she learns how to say, ‘duck, duck, goose’ or when she recounts to her daddy how she went on a bushwalk with mummy and found a lizard basking on a warm rock. 

I enjoy seeing the fascination in her eyes as she sidles up next to me whilst I’m mashing bananas for banana bread,  or the pride in herself as she presents to me the very first egg her chickens have laid.  And I can never tire of watching my babies drift off to sleep in my arms whilst I sing to them,  ‘A Child’s Prayer’.

I can never breathe in the smell of a newborn baby or touch the softness of her skin enough.  There is nothing sweeter than the sound of baby feet running up and down the hallway, coupled with giggling and interspersed with cries of, ‘Roo, roo!’  We all join in as our kangaroo family hops up and down the hall, pretending to be kangaroos dancing to the tune of ‘Tie me kangaroo down, sport’.  Her limitless energy and sense of imagination – the very belief that she can be whatever she wants to be, is a characteristic I want to nurture and encourage.

I love coming home to a house that has crayon drawings of her family scattered everywhere, where the dining room now accommodates a cubby house in which lunch is served and all the teddy bears are invited and where our bedroom is a sanctuary for reading about the adventures of naughty Peter Rabbit eating the vegetables from Mr McGregor’s garden.  It is the joy in the discovery, the experience, the learning and the playing that I want to define the childhood my children have.

I know there is nothing more beautiful in this world and nothing that fills my heart with such joy, happiness and peace than a baby who looks up and smiles at you, as if to say, ‘you are my whole world, you are my mother’.