The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

Have you ever opened your mouth and heard your mother come out? I often hear this from adults as something negative. We sometimes worry we are becoming our parents. Often, it’s something we try to avoid. Other times, it’s something we fully embrace. 

RELATED: Don’t Be Like Mommy When You Grow Up

The older I get and the further along in my parenting journey I travel, the more I realize becoming like my parents isn’t always a bad thing. 

And I certainly wouldn’t want our daughter or sons to feel becoming like me is something negative. I want our kids to grow up to be their unique selves, but I hope any influence I have over them will be positive, life-giving, healthy, and honorable. Although I am far from a perfect parent, I hope I do enough to make our kids proud. I hope I do enough to ensure our kids always know they are fiercely loved and cherished. 

I pray if our kids recognize they are becoming more like me or saying something like I did, they will embrace it because I hope I have parented them in a way they would be proud to emulate. At the same time, I hope they each are learning who they are and growing deeper into who they were created to be. 

I pray they see how hard I love them and love their own children with the same intensity. 

I pray when they open their mouths and their mother comes out, it is because they are lifting someone up, spilling love, or encouraging someone. 

I pray when they open their arms and their mother comes out, it is because they are squeezing love into someone or hugging someone who is hurting. 

RELATED: Dear Child, Not a Day Goes by That I Don’t Pray For You

I pray I have loved and parented in a way that will make any one of our children proud if they see themselves acting like or saying something I do. I also pray they will take what they have learned and make it their own. I hope they become everything they were made to be. Our children are each special and uniquely wonderful, and I hope they can fully embrace who they are. 

I pray I have made them proud as a mother, encourager, and supporter. I pray I have set healthy examples in forgiveness, emotional health, humility, strength, and thankfulness.

And when I haven’t been the most patient parent, I hope to set the example of asking for forgiveness and constantly trying to improve myself. Or when I don’t set an example I would be proud to see our kids emulate, I hope they have the ability to learn from my mistakes and set a more healthy example for their own kids.

I pray I have given them the wings to fully become who they are. I want nothing more than for them to become who they were uniquely designed to be.

As their mother, I have such an important influence on them, and I hope I do enough. 

RELATED: I Hope I Loved You Enough Today

So, if the time comes when one of our kids opens his or her mouth and hears me, I hope it will provide a sense of satisfaction, and my kids will be proud to do or say something like I did. 

 

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Emily Scott

Emily Scott, PhD, is a stay at home mom of three, and part time parenting consultant and blogger who has written and spoken on various parenting topics including child development, ACEs, and tips on raising responsible kids. 

Soon There Will Be No More Breakfasts To Make

In: Grown Children, Motherhood, Teen
Ten boy eating breakfast at kitchen counter

T-minus 44 days until a new beginning- Math has never been my strong suit or my favorite subject, but it will be about 19 years spent rising and trying to shine in our house. Nineteen years of prepping one, two, or all three of our sons to get up and ready for school. Nineteen years of making breakfast. Nineteen years of making lunches. For those of you in the thick of it right now, you know exactly what I mean. I think my husband Steve and I have it down to a science now. If we had to do it...

Keep Reading

I’m Going to Tell You the Things Your Mom Should Have Told You

In: Living, Motherhood
Mother with three grown daughters

During my oldest daughter’s freshman year of college, I started being haunted by a recurring dream of an old-fashioned suitcase—one of those hard-sided ones that’s as big as they come. In the dream, when I open the suitcase, it’s overflowing with clothing, shoes, and all kinds of stuff that belongs to me and each of my three daughters. Everything in the suitcase is all jumbled together. Nobody else in the dream is worried about sorting through everything, but I am totally stressed about it. To top it all off, I have to deal with this suitcase while preparing for a...

Keep Reading

The Half-Dressed Mom and Love in the Details

In: Motherhood
Woman sitting with coffee cup and book on bed

I am a proper mom. Not fancy, not prim—practical. I am dressed for the time of day, always. That is simply who I am. Except for this morning. This morning I was in a towel, bracing the bathroom counter, writhing in pain, and trying not to scream loud enough to disturb the neighbors. I had seen a specialist just the day before. He’d said I needed six weeks to heal before they could do further exploration. What he hadn’t said—what I hadn’t understood—was how much the healing itself would hurt. My 23-year-old daughter, Aislyn, found me like that. Panicked. Half-dressed....

Keep Reading

Mommy, Will You Play With Me?

In: Kids, Motherhood
Boy sitting in middle of toys smiling

With four kids at three different schools, our days are full. Between sports practices, music lessons, clubs, rehearsals, games, meets, and playdates, it feels like we’re constantly heading somewhere. I love that my children are involved in activities, but occasionally, it’s nice to have some downtime. When I get a text or email that a practice has been canceled, it’s usually a huge relief. Last week, after-school sports were cancelled due to heavy rain. When I picked up my youngest son from school, I told him we’d be going straight home for the rest of the afternoon. He looked surprised....

Keep Reading

Could We Take a Page from the ’80s and Stop Overparenting?

In: Kids, Motherhood

I have a confession: Yesterday I let my 11-year-old play with fire. Like literally. We live in the country, there is still wet snow on the ground, and he’s done it with his dad at least 20 times. But yesterday was the fifth consecutive day of no school, and probably the twentieth consecutive day of him asking to have a small fire without dad. Part of me did it out of laziness. Part of me did it out of selfishness. And part of me did it out of nostalgia. Here’s the thing—when I was 11, I was already babysitting (like...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood
Family smiling in posed photo

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

Good Mothers Bake from Scratch, and Other Lies I’ve Believed

In: Motherhood
Smiling women in selfie outside

I am standing at the kitchen counter, spooning banana mix into a muffin tin, when my daughter makes a proposal. “How about dis . . . ?” Presley begins, pausing for dramatic effect. “How about I put four chocolate chips on each muffin because dat’s how old I am?” I smile at her logic. Once every pink polka-dotted liner is filled with batter and topped with exactly four chocolate chips, I place both tins on the middle rack and set a timer. Presley runs out of the room and returns with her plastic step stool, placing it directly in front...

Keep Reading

My ‘Dusty Son’ is 5

In: Living, Motherhood
Little boy holding out dandelion bouquet

As moms, we categorize everything. Girl mom. Boy mom. Wine mom. Outdoor mom. Farm mom. City mom. Now there’s been an uptick in social media trends about exposing our girls to worldly and fancy experiences so someday they’re “not impressed by your dusty son.” I won the parenting jackpot (in my humble opinion) and have an older daughter and a younger son. He’s five. Not a grown man making real-world decisions. Not a college kid learning how to adult. He’s five. He loves dinosaurs and Mario. His big sissy and his Great Dane. He is incapable of cruelty and is...

Keep Reading

These Little Moments Are Everything

In: Motherhood
Mother embracing young child who is kissing her cheek

I almost missed it, my little one. How your eyebrows lift in quiet concentration as you carefully place each block, adding a new wall to your tiger castle. The way you say “scoop over, mom” and shuffle closer to me until our legs touch. “Just one second, bud.” The mantra of all busy moms. I almost missed your blonde hair flying wild as you bounce on the trampoline, that belly laugh that makes the whole world feel soft. I almost missed it. How you close your eyes as you crack the biggest, cheekiest smile when I tickle your belly, giggling...

Keep Reading