I've done all of the things you mention in your introduction but it's a simple moment that comes to mind now. A couple of days ago, my husband and I were out to dinner with our nearly 2-year-old daughter. We received our food and were getting ready to eat when my daughter wasn't diving in. She had her hands together and said, "pray." We normally pray before dinner at home but had never done it in a restaurant. Well, I nearly started crying I was so impressed with her. My husband and I promptly said our prayer, our daughter said, "Amen," and we started to eat. She wanted to do it again when the entrees came out. So we did. It's the small moments like those that prove to my husband and I that many things we try to teach do resonate with our daughter. All the hard work does pay off, whether it's spiritual education, manners, personal care, or any other skill. It makes it all worth while and I find it helps to remember those moments when the trying times come around.

I have a moment that will always remain one of the proudest days I've had as a mother. I have two sons, 18 and 16, and in 2003 their father was killed in a random act of violence by a teen who had set out to go on a crime spree. My sons and a neighbor boy were the only eyewitnesses and not only suffered a tremendous loss, but had a terrible burden of experiencing the worst trauma a child could ever suffer. Their Dad was their coach in baseball, basketball, soccer, and motocross. He was their hero in so many ways, but also the person who taught them almost everything they knew. The week before my husband died, he had coached my oldest son and their team to a basketball league championship. After the funeral, we had to begin the process of a criminal trial, and my heartbreak was even more amplified by the thought that my son would miss his regional basketball season from not only a trial, but by the sheer grief of not having Dad as his coach. I couldn't have been more wrong. At the tender age of 11, my son not only bravely gave his testimony, but went on to be selected for the all-star basketball team. Four months after his Dad had died, my son was playing in the championship game. With only a few minutes left in a tied game, the championship was on the line. In what seemed like slow motion, my son stole the ball, and made the game winning shot to bring victory to the team. When the ball sunk in the hoop, my son stopped on the court, hung his head, and held up his arm with his finger pointing at the sky. He mouthed, "I love you Dad", and jogged off the court. He silenced the whole gymnasium and it was one of the most poignant moments I've ever seen. Seven years later, with 5 state championships and having lettered 4 times in varsity basketball, my brave son is graduating high school this year. Along side his younger brother, who has since been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, my boys have overcome and conquered the worst loss they could have ever suffered. As their mother, I couldn't be prouder of my two great champions, who in my mind are gold medalists.

My son became fatherless when he was 6 months old.My own Dad died when he was 5 and so did the dreams of having a man as a mentor for my son who would be raised by women. I worked as a pharmacist at many different jobs throughout his childhood. Many of those jobs required 12 t0 14hours away from home. When he became a member of the swim team, the change in him was monumental. One of my proudest of days was when the ten year old was required to go to a swim meet in Daytona Beach. The pool was heated, but it was a freezing day. Copious quantities of water vapor gave the pool a mystic quality. It was decided that each swimmer would have to participate in one heat in order to qualify for the State meet. Doting mothers stood with thirsty towels in hand while every child dove from the block as requested. My back stroker brought tears to my eyes. Perhaps, he doesn't appreciate some of the sacrifices and character building schemes I devised. He did grow up to be a fine young man. The sacrifices and even the thinking of parents may not be apparent until the child becomes a parent. Then, the perception of the doggedly devoted parent may be viewed in new light.

apparent until

My Olympics of parenting came 4 days after my youngest son was born. My husband is military and was sent away 4 days after the birth of Bobby. I was at home with my 2 year old son Ryan and Bobby and living a thousand miles away from our closest relative. Bobby got sick, everytime he would eat, anything he did eat would come right back up. We made trips to the Pediatric clinic almost daily for about a week and a half. Where they would tell me that I just had to keep trying. Bobby was quickly loosing more and more weight and lost interest in eating at all. I did all I could to get him to eat and get the milk to stay down, all while trying to also take care of my 2 year old. Finally after two weeks my husband finally got home and we were sent to a larger hospital nearby where Bobby was placed in the PICU. Bobby was so severely dehydrated that he went into shock. He was given a breathing tube and sedated so he wouldn't try to pull the tube out. After a week and a half of testing my son was diagnosed with severe GERD. So at four weeks of age Bobby went through a major operation and given a feeding tube. Two days later we were released from the hospital and sent home. Since then Bobby has had many medical issues on top of the GERD which we still deal with daily. So my Olympics of Parenting are on going. Bobby has appointments on a daily basis with his various therapists, surgeons, GI docs and ENTs. He is still tube fed and continues to struggle with his GERD. I have had to become Bobby's advocate, no one else will stand up for him and ensure he gets exactly what he needs. Throughout it all he has stayed the sweetest little guy. He is very loving and has a devilish streak about him. He will be two on March 14 and I can't imagine my life without my little miracle man.