The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!
I’m a mom of four little ones. Enough said. Actually, there’s much more to me than the children that label my amazing vocation called motherhood, but for the good of my family, and society, I spend mostly every waking minute thinking, playing, and working with my children. It isn’t an easy job, but I honestly wouldn’t give it up for anything in this world. Yet, a long hot shower alone without any little ones knocking or tattle-tale screams from the other side of the door sounds quite tempting right now. More than a warm shower, I could really use a cup of hot coffee that didn’t have to be warmed up several times – the small things we give up for children. But these little sacrifices are exactly what motherhood is made of and what molds us into some of the best mothers that walk the earth. It’s whether or not we are willing to accept these personal sacrifices and for most of us, we are willing to accept anything thrown our way for the sake of our children.
The internet is flooded with articles about removing the “filters” and to stop “faking fine” and I whole-heartedly agree that our world has an unrealistic haze, but it isn’t completely bad either. Our mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers had their own types of “filters” as they chose to make the best of their lives. There were plenty of tough days alongside the happy ones, but the only difference is that we have social media to overexpose the “filtered” lives of our friends, family, and even strangers. Generations ago, mothers were never concerned about the next Instagram image to post or whether their political views might infuriate half of their Facebook “friends.” But we live in quite a different world now. We can either accept the “filters” and understand what lies behind them or we can spend the rest of our lives complaining about our imperfect lives.
I personally appreciate the blogs and Instagram accounts that don’t have perfectly edited pictures. I value the “real” moments of family life with the smiles, laughter, and even occasional melt-downs. But all too often we see the “stop faking fine” pictures. The photos where mothers are trying to prove their imperfections, but honestly, it’s not necessary. We all have imperfections. I don’t need to see your messy laundry room each morning as you walk away with your cup of coffee with no intention of cleaning it. Instead, I appreciate a mom who owns her messy laundry room, but gives useful ideas for organizing the space. This is real life.
Motherhood isn’t meant to be an outlet to prove our imperfections, but an opportunity to grow as women. There are very few other vocations/careers that will make you humble, proud, ready to cry, and angry from a person who is a third of your height all within a thirty minute period. So, instead of only proving imperfections, let’s work to overcome them. Every now and again, it’s okay to pretend that everything is fine. As mothers, we have one of the toughest jobs, so let’s become role models for all who observe us, especially our children – the next generation. And remember, that sometimes, it’s okay to pretend that everything is “fine” for our own sanity. The messy laundry room or dirty dishes don’t always have to be the center of our stories to prove our credibility, because sometimes it’s okay to “fake fine” for the sake of our sanity.
These robotics kids are going to shape our future. I think this every time I watch an elementary, middle school, or high school competition. My thoughts go back many years to when my middle child, who was six at the time, went with my husband to the high school robotics shop. They were only stopping in briefly to pick up some engineering kits, but my child quickly became captivated by what the “big kids” were doing. He stood quietly watching until one student walked over and asked if he would like to see what they were working on. My son,...
Sometimes foster care looks like bringing a child from a hard place into your home. Sometimes it looks like sitting at a ball field with a former foster love’s mom and being her village. He’s the one who has brought me to my knees more times than my own children. He’s the one I lie awake at night thinking about. He’s the one I beg the father to protect. He’s the one who makes me want to get in the trenches over and over again. It’s our Bubba. So much of the story is not mine to tell, but the...
When we decided to give our preschooler another year before kindergarten, I thought the hardest part would be explaining it to other people. I was wrong. The hardest part was the afternoon her teacher asked to talk. In that split second in the pick-up line, my heart sank. I assumed the worst. I braced myself for a conversation about behavior, about something we had somehow missed, about whether her strong personality was causing problems. Instead, it became the moment that confirmed what we already knew. We were not holding her back. We were giving her time. Our daughter is bright....
My life changed on that beautiful autumn day. The thing is, nothing really happened. Not really. My life kind of went on as usual. A fly on the wall might even say it was a great day. I brought my 3-year-old son to an animal farm for a Halloween event. He was quirky as usual and a bit ornery that day. Aloof. “Come feed the baby animals,” I pleaded. No, thank you. Crowds of excited children? Absolutely not. Buckets of candy? You can keep them. My heart ached watching my beautiful, blonde-haired boy wander into a field alone, away from...
Last night I watched an episode of Shrinking. If you haven’t jumped into the series yet, it’s one of those that hits the heart hard- at least for me. The episode centered on the birth of a baby, while one of the characters grappled with the closing years of life. Spoiler alert: as the elder of the group cradled this new life in his arms, bridging generations across the hospital room, the moment of realization of how fast life goes hit like a ton of bricks. “Enjoy the ride, kid.” The final words of this episode are sitting with me,...
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....
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...
He doesn’t remember the day she came home.But she has never known a world without him. From the beginning, he was there first. The first to reach for her hand. The first to explain the rules. The first to decide what was fair and what absolutely was not. He didn’t know he was being assigned a role. He just stepped into it. Big brother. She followed him everywhere. Into rooms she technically wasn’t invited into. Into games she didn’t fully understand. Into stories she insisted on hearing again and again. She wanted to do what he did, say what he...
I was in the middle of the post-holiday clean-up chaos when something hit me. My oldest daughter is seven, and while it feels like an age that doesn’t get talked about much, it really is turning out to be such a sweet spot. It hit me as we were redesigning her room. A change that occurred when she broke my mama-heart a few weeks prior by saying she didn’t think she wanted a princess room anymore. While everything in me wanted to try to convince her to keep it, stay small and sweet just a little longer, I knew I...
God made a gymnast with fearless grace, strength in her heart, and a fire in her spirit. He molded her courage, steady and true, and quietly whispered, “We believe in you.” He taught her balance when life feels chaotic and messy, to leap into her faith and stick each landing just right. When she stumbles, He is always right there to help her rise back up with faith in her soul and a spark in her eyes. Each floor routine with the grace of a swan; each move is a dream, all built on dedication and grit. God made her...
