Defining success

Today was an interesting day.  The weather was beautifully overcast, contemplative if you will.  On the surface everything was pretty ordinary.  The kids played, we did some lessons, read books, discussed.  I cooked, I thought about our eating and cooking habits (hopefully another post right there).   I tried to tidy up.  I made sure the kids were dressed weather appropriately, we went out.  I practiced some new photographing ideas I read about yesterday.  I got some great shots.  I really would like to take better photos.  I thought about the blog.  I fed and changed and cuddled and read stories and answered questions.  Then came the meltdowns and bumps and tears and for today, a later bedtime.  It was a very full day but I haven't accomplished as much as I would have liked.  But was it a good day anyway?  How does one define success in a life of a family?  I once asked myself this question, what would I consider a successful day for me?   I think for me a successful day is when something was learned and something was taught and everything else was good enough.  So by this standard today was a success even if it left something to be desired.  I have to keep reminding myself that the journey itself, with all its' trials and tribulations, all its' small accomplishments and successes, is important.  It's the direction you are heading in that's significant a lot of the time.  So we have to learn to define success as more than just the end deal.   So here is a really sweet  poem by Mary Morrison that really expresses this point well.
Nobody Knows But Mother
How many buttons are missing today?
Nobody knows but Mother.
How many playthings are strewn in her way?
Nobody knows but Mother.
How many thimbles and spools has she missed?
How many burns on each fat little fist?
How many bumps to be cuddled and kissed?
Nobody knows but Mother.
How many hats has she hunted today?
Nobody knows but Mother.
Carelessly hiding themselves in the hay
Nobody knows but Mother.
How many handkerchiefs wilfully strayed?
How many ribbons for each little maid?
How for her care can a mother be paid?
Nobody knows but Mother.
How many muddy shoes all in a row?
Nobody knows but Mother.
How many stockings to darn, do you know?
Nobody knows but Mother.
How many little torn aprons to mend?
How many hours of toil must she spend?
What is the time when her day's work shall end?
Nobody knows but Mother.
>How many lunches for Tommy and Sam?
Nobody knows but Mother.
Cookies and apples and blackberry jam
Nobody knows but Mother.
Nourishing dainties for every "sweet tooth,'
Toddling Dottie or dignified Ruth-
How much love sweetens the labor, forsooth?
Nobody knows but Mother.
How many cares does a mother's heart know?
Nobody knows but Mother.
How many joys from her mother love flow?
Nobody knows but Mother.
How many prayers for each little white bed?
How many tears for her babes has she shed?
How many kisses for each curly head?
Nobody knows but Mother.
- Mary Morrison