I don't even like children!

I think I had an 'ah-hah!' moment this week. Okay, I'm sure of it. It was a revelatory experience, to be sure.

As I was in the midst of babysitting 4 kids who are "free spirits" (plus my own, but she's not allowed to be a free spirit yet), in a massive house with too many nooks and crannies, I suddenly stopped and thought to myself, "Why am I doing this? I don't even really like kids!"

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE Molly, and to a lesser extent, I love Grant, and Nate, and our Marinello girlies. I adore many of friends' kids, and I am amused and tolerate some of the others. But, I think for a long time (possibly always?) I've been trying to convince myself that in order to be a good woman/mormon woman/mother/aunt, I absolutely must LOVE children and be an all-nurturing entity that espouses wisdom and delight and thinks of nothing but craft projects and playtime activities.

After years of living in denial, I think I'm starting to come around to the philosophy of "being a good Mum to my own children does not mean I need to be a good Mum to every child."

As they say in Glasgow -- Ainae gannae happen