Sometimes I forget.

Standing at the sink, looking with irritation at yet another pile of dishes. Walking into the living room, muttering in frustration, as I trip over the “farm” my little one has carefully crafted that spans a third of the room. Leaning down AGAIN to pick up one more piece of dirty clothes that’s been carelessly dropped and throwing it in the already heaping pile of laundry spilling from the basket.

Sometimes I forget.

When I hear, “Mama, play with me,” for the 12th time, and it’s not even noon. When my little girl wants me to play Candy Land “one more time” and my little boy wants me to pretend to be a horse. When all I want to do is sit and look at more than two consecutive pages of a magazine without interruption, drink a cup of coffee that’s still hot, or better yet, read an entire chapter of a book.

Sometimes I forget.

When there’s so much to do and so little time, and I wonder how I’ll get it all done. When I feel pulled in different directions, and I get bogged down in how best to prioritize it all. When there are small everyday things like the laundry that must get done, and significant things I feel led to do, and I feel overwhelmed and ill-equipped to balance the load.

Sometimes I forget.

When we disagree, and I find myself angry that he doesn’t see things my way. When our parenting differences become so evident, and we’re at odds on how best to handle certain situations. When I look at him and see only our differences, and wonder how he could possibly think or feel the way he does.

Sometimes I forget.

Sometimes I forget that the reason my sink is full and my laundry baskets are overflowing is because God has gifted me with a beautiful family, and I have the privilege of taking care of them.

Sometimes I forget when I sweep up one more pile of grass and dirt, that the dirt is there because I’ve been blessed with little ones who are healthy, active, and able to run and play outside (and yes, track dirt inside).

Sometimes I forget when my littles want to play with me again and again that it’s because I’m their whole world. That I’m their favorite person (along with their dad) and I get to be the recipient of all their love and attention.

Sometimes I forget that one day others will take a more central role in their life, and I will no longer be the center of their universe.

Sometimes I forget that even though there is much to be done, I am alive, healthy, and able to do it. I forget that though some things like laundry are mundane, these tasks are still ways of showing love to my family.

Sometimes I forget that God does not call me to help everyone, but He does call me to help someone. I forget that the Spirit of God lives within me and equips me to do all of the things that He has called me to do.

Sometimes I forget that the man I married, and who I sometimes disagree with, is the very best dad any family could ever ask for. I forget that even though we disagree at times, we agree on the things that matter most like raising our children to love God and love others.

Sometimes I forget that though my husband and I are so different, it’s these differences that balance us and help us to better complete one another.

Yes, sometimes I forget.

But today, thank God, I remember.

Written by: Ginger Hughes – For more stories like this one, please follow her facebook page No Mama’s Perfect.


Ginger Hughes

Ginger Hughes is the wife of a pastor, a mother to Ella and Elam, and a part-time accountant.  She is a Georgia native, but presently calls the foothills of North Carolina home.  She loves coffee, nature, and reading, but with two children under six, she struggles to find time in the day for any of the above!   She is a Christ follower and a fellow struggler on life’s journey who seeks to find joy in the everyday. Her passion for writing is fueled by the desire to offer encouragement, grace, and a deeper understanding that we are all God’s children, that we are not alone in our brokenness, and that we are all deeply loved.  You can read more of her writings at