Most days, I am certain I am doing it wrong.  I picture my children, years from now, telling some therapist all of the ways that I messed up.  They will tell stories of peanut butter sandwiches for days without end because I didn’t have the energy for making anything more.  They will bemoan the fact that I repeatedly refused to allow flip flops to be worn to church for no other reason than it just felt wrong.

Join me over on the Family Matters Blog today as I admit that, when it comes to mothering, I know nothing…