Free shipping on all orders over $75🎄

Here we are, my love.

I’m in the kitchen, re-reading this recipe for what feels like the hundredth time, relieved because you’re finally home and taking over their questions and interruptions and requests. You did it without me having to ask because it’s what we do every day. It’s where we fall, where we settle into our roles for the final hours of the day.

Here we are, my love.

You are there, and I am here.

I clean up after dinner while you bathe them and get them ready for bed. During this part of the day, we’re often in separate rooms, doing separate things that converge towards the same ultimate goal.

It hits me, suddenly, that we haven’t had a proper conversation in a few days. There’s that story you started to tell me yesterday, or that idea I was excited to share with you, but they inevitably turn into cliffhangers these days because someone needs a diaper change, or someone needs to tell you about the new friend they made at school, or someone wants to show you how good they’ve gotten at hopping; and because we need – we want – to listen, we have become experts at exchanging a wordless look that promises, “Later, when they’re asleep.”

Do you remember those telephone conversations we used to have for hours on end? We’d feel like we could stay there forever – forever – just listening to each others’ voices, with hearts so full and so much to say. In the place of distractions and interruptions and refereeing was the abundance of time and undivided attention.

It didn’t matter that we’d be up well into the early hours of the morning. Sleep was no big deal.

And now, here we are, my love, where sometimes, when they are finally asleep, we’re both too drained to get into an in-depth conversation, and the lure of the mutual, silent, agreement to crumble in a heap onto the couch, mindlessly decompressing by watching a show or reading a book, is too great to resist.

Sometimes they sleep so soundly that we do get to discuss life’s big decisions, or what’s in our hearts, right after they’ve been bathed, read to, kissed goodnight and tucked in. But more often than not, we can only manage to talk in the nooks, crannies and fringes of our day, while they paint in the bathtub, while they pull out every single book from the bookshelf, while they forget about our presence for a moment and create their own game. We are theirs, but in some moments – some precious moments – we are only each other’s.

Here we are, my love, where the things that used to make our hearts race are replaced by the bursts of emotion when they do something funny, or unbelievably smart, or cheeky, and our eyes dart across the table, quicker than lightning, and we say everything in a smirk or an eyebrow raise. They’re replaced by a ten-second pause in the midst of all the chaos when you look at me that little bit longer or I smile at you, just you, for no reason other than that I’m happy I’m with you in this craziness. And just like that, we are caught back in the wave of belonging to little ones, of being looked up to with adoring eyes and curious faces, of having our clothes pulled by small, but strong, hands to make sure they get our attention, and all of it, of heavy heads buried into our shoulders when they are hurt, of being the ones they need for everything – everything – all the time.

Here we are, my love, making the memories we will one day look back on, with laughter, with nostalgia, maybe with relief, but maybe with aching hearts.

We’ll look back on them when we have the things we now crave: independence, time, energy, vacations, late nights and sleep-ins, hot meals and coffees, the freedom to do whatever we please, whenever we please.

And there we’ll be, my love, not wanting to intrude but eagerly awaiting their next phone call because they’re so busy with their own lives now, jokingly threatening to buy them the house next door to ours because we miss them and the grandkids so desperately, hinting that we’re free for the foreseeable future in the hope they have time to come and visit.

They will be there, and we will be here.

You sometimes say to me, “They’ll never be this small again.” And when you say it, I tell you to stop, because every time you do, I feel the tiniest of fractures splitting through my heart. It reminds me that time can be merciless, that moments become memories, that today becomes way back when.

So although here we are, my love, approaching another evening of uneaten dinners and pajama choice negotiations and passing out 20 minutes into a movie, with the anticipation of a 6 a.m. alarm in the form of soft hands on our faces and bubbly, squealing voices calling out “Mama! Papa!” and the expectation of breakfast made just how they each like it, I know it looks different than how it used to be—maybe even to how we thought it would be.

But right now, here we are, and here they are, my love. And I wouldn’t want to be here, all of us together, with anyone but you.

You May Also Like: Why Tired Mothers Stay Up So Late

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

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

Order Now

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at https://herviewfromhome.com/contact-us/write-for-her//

Brothers Fight Hard and Love Harder

In: Kids, Motherhood
Two boys play outside, one lifting the other on his back

The last few years have been a whirlwind. My head has sometimes been left spinning; we have moved continents with three boys, three and under at the time. Set up home and remained sufficiently organized despite the complete chaos to ensure everyone was where they were meant to be on most days. Living in a primarily hockey town, the winters are filled with coffee catch-ups at the arena, so it was no surprise when my youngest declared his intention to play hockey like his school friends. Fully aware that he had never held a hockey stick or slapped a puck,...

Keep Reading

Stop Putting an Expiration Date on Making Memories

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother and son in small train ride

We get 12 times to play Santa (if we’re lucky). This phrase stopped my scroll on a Sunday evening. I had an idea of the direction this post was going but I continued on reading. 12 spring breaks 12 easter baskets 20 tooth fairy visits 13 first days of school 1 first date 1-2 proms 1-2 times of seeing them in their graduation cap and gown 18 summers under the same roof And so on and so on. It was essentially another post listing the number of all the monumental moments that we, Lord willing, will get to experience with our...

Keep Reading

When Your Kids Ask, “Where Is God?”

In: Faith, Kids
Child looking at sunset

How do I know if the voice I’m hearing is God’s voice? When I was in high school, I found myself asking this question. My dad was a pastor, and I was feeling called to ministry. I didn’t know if I was just hearing my dad’s wish or the call of God. I was worried I was confusing the two. It turns out, I did know. I knew because I was raised to recognize the presence of God all around me. Once I knew what God’s presence felt like, I also knew what God’s voice sounded like. There is a...

Keep Reading

Go Easy On the Parents Who Refuse to Skip Naps

In: Kids, Motherhood
Two little boys and their sister walking down a gravel road, color photo

Greetings from a mom who is done with napping children. It’s great to have the flexibility during the day for longer activities, meeting friends for playdates, or day trips to faraway places. It’s a new life . . . the life without naps. The freedom to make plans and keep them. But not that long ago, I was something very different than the flexible, plan-keeping, up-for-it woman I am today. I used to be the mom who refused to skip my child’s nap. Yep, that one. Here’s the thing, for a lot of parents, It’s so much more than just a...

Keep Reading

My Heart Isn’t Ready for You to Stop Believing in Santa

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little boy standing in front of lit christmas tree

“My friend doesn’t believe in Santa anymore, Mom,” my son said out of the blue the other day. We were driving in the car, and when I met his gaze in the rear-view mirror his eyes searched mine. Immediately, my heart sank.  This sweet boy, he’s our first. Thoughtful and smart and eight years old. A quick Google search tells me that’s the average age kids stop believing in Santa, but as his mom, I’m not ready for that—not even a little bit.  I can still hear his barely 2-year-old voice going on about reindeer as we lay together on...

Keep Reading

Motherhood is a Million Little Letting Gos and Fresh Hellos

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother sitting with child on her lap by the setting sun and water

I missed my grocery-shopping buddy the other day. Mondays are usually the days my littlest and I knock out our grocery list. In the past, we’ve dropped the kids at school and then headed to the store. I grab a latte, and she chooses a hot chocolate. But that day, they were all in school. That day, she sat in her kindergarten class, and I went to the grocery store. Alone. A new rhythm. A changed routine. A different season. I listened to a podcast on the drive. My podcast. Then I grabbed a drink. Just one. I got the...

Keep Reading

Dear Kids, This Is My Wish for You

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother hugs three kids

To my kids, The world you’re stepping into is unlike anything I experienced at your age. It’s fast-paced, interconnected, and sometimes overwhelming. But within this chaos lie countless opportunities for growth and joy. My wish for you is that you find the perfect balance between embracing the modern world and staying true to yourselves. Change is one thing you can always count on. Embrace it because it’s often the motivation for growth. Embracing change doesn’t mean letting go of who you are; rather, it’s about evolving into the best version of yourself. Remember, you don’t need to have all the...

Keep Reading

Dear Daughter, Stay Wild

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother and daughter on beach, color photo

I can’t really put my finger on it. Or manage to find all the words. But there’s just something about that girl. Maybe it’s the way her hair sits tangled. Curled up at the end. The way she moves. Dances. As if everyone was watching. Or no one at all. RELATED: There is Wild Beauty in This Spirited Child of Mine It could be the way she smiles. With her heart. The way only she can. The way she cares, loves. For everyone. For herself. You see, she is beautiful in the way only wild things are. The way they...

Keep Reading

You’re Becoming a Big Sister, But You’ll Always Be My Baby

In: Baby, Kids, Motherhood
Pregnant woman with young daughter, color photo

The anticipation of welcoming a new baby into the world is an exciting and joyous time for our family. From the moment we found out we were expecting to just about every day since, the love and excitement only continue to grow. However, amidst all the preparations for the new addition, I cannot help but have mixed emotions as I look back at old videos and pictures of my firstborn, my first princess, my Phoebe—for she will always hold a special place in my heart. As the anticipation grows, my heart swells with a mix of emotions knowing we are...

Keep Reading

Cowgirls Don’t Cry Unless the Horse They Loved Is Gone

In: Grief, Kids, Loss
Little girls Toy Story Jessie costume, color photo

The knee of my pants is wet and dirty. My yellow ring lays by the sink—it’s been my favorite ring for months. I bought it to match Bigfoot’s halter and the sunflowers by his pasture. Bigfoot is my daughter’s pony, and I loved him the most. The afternoon is so sunny. His hooves make the same calming rhythm I’ve come to love as I walk him out back. A strong wind blows through the barn. A stall labeled “Bigfoot,” adorned with a sunflower, hangs open and I feel sick. I kneel down by his side as he munches the grass....

Keep Reading