Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

Dear Husband,

I know somedays you wonder what I do all day.

You come home after a long, hard day and you see the house is still a mess. You see dishes in the sink. You see me, your wife, walking around looking like I didn’t take a shower. It’s because I didn’t, by the way. You see toys strewn throughout the house. Paint and glue litter the kitchen table. A laundry basket sits in the hall bathroom and you’re not sure if it’s clean clothes waiting to be folded or dirty clothes waiting to be washed.

I know somedays you wonder what I do all day. And I get it.

Somedays I wonder the same thing. How did the day get away from me? You’re about to be home and I scramble to make the house look nice for you. You’re about to be home, so I start making dinner and run the soapy water for the dishes. I clean up the toys and straighten up the house, but when I go to finish that dinner I started, the mess reappears. Because trying to keep a house with kids in it, is trying to play catch-up all day. But, you never catch up. It’s exhausting in that it’s never ending and there’s never a moment when you’ve actually caught up. And when there is that moment– that brief, shining, proud moment– it’s gone before anyone but me gets to see it.

I know somedays you wonder what I do all day. And I don’t blame you.

I remember when I was eight months pregnant with our second child and you came home from work one day and muttered those words under your breath. You were in another room and didn’t think I heard you. But I did. I blame it on my eagle like hearing that pregnancy must’ve super-honed. I’m sure you remember it too because I gave you hell for it. I screamed and cried and broke down. I got on my knees and started picking up (throwing) the toys, explaining to you through tears about how hard it is to stay at home sometimes. You begged me to get up and told me you were sorry and started picking up the toys yourself. The truth is you didn’t understand and how could you. You were gone all day. You were envisioning me frolicking around the house, eating bon-bons, watching copious amounts of t.v., and being on an endless vacation. You heard about the park play dates and Chuck E. Cheese. You weren’t here to see the day in and day out of what it is to stay at home with the children. But, I also remember the moment when you started to get it. When I started leaving you alone at home with both kids for a few hours and you couldn’t get anything done. You shared with me how they weren’t listening and kept making messes and you couldn’t mow the yard or change the oil in the truck like you had planned. I nodded with knowing eyes as you lamented about the couple of sweet, bad butt kids we were raising.

I know somedays you wonder what I do all day. Because I wonder the same about you.

Oh, how it must feel to drive that long ride to work each morning. Alone in your thoughts. Listening to your favorite songs turned up as loud as you want. Drinking your hot coffee uninterrupted. Being around other adults and talking about the weather and politics and whatever else adults talk about when children aren’t around. I hardly remember what that is anymore. Going out to lunch with your coworkers. Working a 9 to 5. I realize it’s not all fun and games. But, it’s easy to think you’re on some sophisticated adult vacation when I’m alone at home with the kids.

I know somedays you wonder what I do all day. And when you add it all up it looks something like this…

I argue with a three-year-old about what she can eat for breakfast. Every morning. I go to the bathroom and return to find the craft cabinet opened and ten thousand things glued to each other. I close cabinets, turn lights off, pick up snack trash, shut doors, and flush toilets with the frequency of a janitor at an elementary school. I snuggle on the couch and read five hundred books a day. I ration out band-aids like it’s World War II. I wipe off the kitchen table a gazillion times. I listen to the sweetest little voices tell me about their big dreams and scary nightmares. I resolve sibling squabbles with the precision and depth of someone who’s interning for their psychology degree or at least the guy who referees WWF wrestling. I get on bended knee and explain etiquette and manners and rules and dole out discipline and correction and hugs and kisses every few minutes. I learn that I’m my mother and I analyze my parenting and I make changes and I fail and I get back up and try again and I strategize and I grow and I become better and then I lose it and start all over again. Every. Day.

I know somedays you wonder what I do all day. But just know this…

I do it for you. And for us. And for them. And for me. And I know you do the same.


Your Wife

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Sherry White

Sherry White writes about the messiness of life, parenting, and faith at her blog The Messy Christian. She tries to add her own brand of humor and insight into everyday issues we all face, reminding us that even though we find ourselves in countless messes, God’s grace lights the way. She would be thrilled if you follower her on Facebook and Instagram.

I Thought Our Friendship Would Be Unbreakable

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Two friends selfie

The message notification pinged on my phone. A woman, once one of my best friends, was reaching out to me via Facebook. Her message simply read, “Wanted to catch up and see how life was treating you!”  I had very conflicting feelings. It seemed with that one single message, a flood of memories surfaced. Some held some great moments and laughter. Other memories held disappointment and hurt of a friendship that simply had run its course. Out of morbid curiosity, I clicked on her profile page to see how the years had been treating her. She was divorced and still...

Keep Reading

The First 10 Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking

In: Journal, Marriage, Relationships
The First Ten Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking www.herviewfromhome.com

We met online in October of 2005, by way of a spam email ad I was THIS CLOSE to marking as trash. Meet Single Christians! My cheese alert siren sounded loudly, but for some reason, I unchecked the delete box and clicked through to the site. We met face-to-face that Thanksgiving. As I awaited your arrival in my mother’s kitchen, my dad whispered to my little brother, “Hide your valuables. Stacy has some guy she met online coming for Thanksgiving dinner.” We embraced for the first time in my parents’ driveway. I was wearing my black cashmere sweater with the...

Keep Reading

To The Mother Who Is Overwhelmed

In: Inspiration, Motherhood
Tired woman with coffee sitting at table

I have this one head. It is a normal sized head. It didn’t get bigger because I had children. Just like I didn’t grow an extra arm with the birth of each child. I mean, while that would be nice, it’s just not the case. We keep our one self. And the children we add on each add on to our weight in this life. And the head didn’t grow more heads because we become a wife to someone. Or a boss to someone. We carry the weight of motherhood. The decisions we must make each day—fight the shorts battle...

Keep Reading

You’re a Little Less Baby Today Than Yesterday

In: Journal, Motherhood
Toddler sleeping in mother's arms

Tiny sparkles are nestled in the wispy hair falling across her brow, shaken free of the princess costume she pulled over her head this morning. She’s swathed in pink: a satiny pink dress-up bodice, a fluffy, pink, slightly-less-glittery-than-it-was-two-hours-ago tulle skirt, a worn, soft pink baby blanket. She’s slowed long enough to crawl into my lap, blinking heavy eyelids. She’s a little less baby today than she was only yesterday.  Soon, she’ll be too big, too busy for my arms.  But today, I’m rocking a princess. The early years will be filled with exploration and adventure. She’ll climb atop counters and...

Keep Reading

Dear Husband, I Loved You First

In: Marriage, Motherhood, Relationships
Man and woman kissing in love

Dear husband, I loved you first. But often, you get the last of me. I remember you picking me up for our first date. I spent a whole hour getting ready for you. Making sure every hair was in place and my make-up was perfect. When you see me now at the end of the day, the make-up that is left on my face is smeared. My hair is more than likely in a ponytail or some rat’s nest on the top of my head. And my outfit, 100% has someone’s bodily fluids smeared somewhere. But there were days when...

Keep Reading

Stop Being a Butthole Wife

In: Grief, Journal, Marriage, Relationships
Man and woman sit on the end of a dock with arms around each other

Stop being a butthole wife. No, I’m serious. End it.  Let’s start with the laundry angst. I get it, the guy can’t find the hamper. It’s maddening. It’s insanity. Why, why, must he leave piles of clothes scattered, the same way that the toddler does, right? I mean, grow up and help out around here, man. There is no laundry fairy. What if that pile of laundry is a gift in disguise from a God you can’t (yet) see? Don’t roll your eyes, hear me out on this one. I was a butthole wife. Until my husband died. The day...

Keep Reading

I Can’t Be Everyone’s Chick-fil-A Sauce

In: Friendship, Journal, Living, Relationships
woman smiling in the sun

A couple of friends and I went and grabbed lunch at Chick-fil-A a couple of weeks ago. It was delightful. We spent roughly $20 apiece, and our kids ran in and out of the play area barefoot and stinky and begged us for ice cream, to which we responded, “Not until you finish your nuggets,” to which they responded with a whine, and then ran off again like a bolt of crazy energy. One friend had to climb into the play tubes a few times to save her 22-month-old, but it was still worth every penny. Every. Single. One. Even...

Keep Reading

Love Notes From My Mother in Heaven

In: Faith, Grief, Journal, Living
Woman smelling bunch of flowers

Twelve years have passed since my mother exclaimed, “I’ve died and gone to Heaven!” as she leaned back in her big donut-shaped tube and splashed her toes, enjoying the serenity of the river.  Twelve years since I stood on the shore of that same river, 45 minutes later, watching to see if the hopeful EMT would be able to revive my mother as she floated toward his outstretched hands. Twelve years ago, I stood alone in my bedroom, weak and trembling, as I opened my mother’s Bible and all the little keepsakes she’d stowed inside tumbled to the floor.  It...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Friendships End, No Matter How Hard You Try

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Sad woman alone without a friend

I tried. We say these words for two reasons. One: for our own justification that we made an effort to complete a task; and two: to admit that we fell short of that task. I wrote those words in an e-mail tonight to a friend I had for nearly 25 years after not speaking to her for eight months. It was the third e-mail I’ve sent over the past few weeks to try to reconcile with a woman who was more of a sister to me at some points than my own biological sister was. It’s sad when we drift...

Keep Reading

Goodbye to the House That Built Me

In: Grown Children, Journal, Living, Relationships
Ranch style home as seen from the curb

In the winter of 1985, while I was halfway done growing in my mom’s belly, my parents moved into a little brown 3 bedroom/1.5 bath that was halfway between the school and the prison in which my dad worked as a corrections officer. I would be the first baby they brought home to their new house, joining my older sister. I’d take my first steps across the brown shag carpet that the previous owner had installed. The back bedroom was mine, and mom plastered Smurf-themed wallpaper on the accent wall to try to get me to sleep in there every...

Keep Reading