Finally, the day has come. I am on the back porch with a glass of wine, in a rocking chair writing on my laptop. Pure heaven! William is in his newly purchased plastic pool, Anna is cooking my dinner (part of her "home ec" studies), and Lauren is doing math on the back porch. The sun is going down as the chickens peck around for a few worms in the back yard. Of course, the bills aren't yet done, the laundry is piled high, and I've not made the bed today, but there is always tomorrow.

This weekend, months behind the desired schedule of starting the garden, Wm and I finished putting out the tomato plants. I kept repeating in my head: I'm growing a boy, not tomatoes as I answered question after question, reminded him to watch his feet, and lost the quiet solitude that gardening has held for me in the past. "It doesn't have to be perfect, does it Mom?" he asked, a question he is often heard voicing. No, it doesn't have to be perfect, probably the greatest lesson I've learned as a mom. The quest is to do and to enjoy the learning, the journey. Too often, we search for perfection in the end results, and miss the perfection in the togetherness that got us there.