Gifts for Mom, Grandparents, Besties and YOU🎄 ➔

In the dawn before motherhood, I envisioned my future endeavors as clear days at coffee houses, giggling baby in one arm, essential day planner in the other, securely surrounded by chatty mothers scheduling out trips to the park.

But this, it turns out, is not my identity in motherhood.

I am not a mom who has playdates in the park. My day planner is bare of monthly Bunco nights with other mothers. In fact, I’m not even sure what Bunco is.

The latest trends, err, the outside world is now an enigma to me. I am not a trendy mom. I tried once, scrolling through news feeds in the wee hours before my children arose, but inevitably, the snooze button became a larger temptation than yet another article depicting idiotic acts with Tide Pods.

Tide Pods I use to wash my standard mother attire: activewear. Not the vivid print styles from designers like Kate Hudson. I sport pilling and faded black leggings from Target, remnants of my college days. The decade since has dwindled my stock down to two pairs without holes—one for Saturday, one for Sunday. It works.

Saturdays pass while I remain tucked away indoors. My husband eagerly awaits the opportunity to support a girls’ night out, if only to see his wife dressed in high-fashion clothes, but alas I have no girls to have a night out with. I am not a hip mom.

I am just a mom.

As was my mother.

As a child, my mother taught me how to glue dyed macaroni onto construction paper and catch bugs with old baby food jars, though she never blogged about it. Nor did her ideas stem from Pinterest. She lacked even a subscription to Home and Garden Magazine. She was endlessly consumed with diverting her two toddlers’ energies into something that wasn’t coloring on the walls. Or buttering our pet rabbit.

I secretly ached to be more than just a mother. To be the mother who proved to the world what a mother could be.

Naturally career-driven, I attempted to be the suit wearing, stilettoed, career mom, but I often twisted my ankle hustling into the daycare and found I could never find enough time to wash my hair. I am not an executive mother.

A longtime runner, I focused my identity around running until mile 10 of a half marathon, I visualized my family having breakfast without me and realized I’d rather be cleaning my son’s eggs off the tile than pounding the pavement.

I am no longer the marathon mom.

I wanted desperately to belong to some niche in the mom world, to be a part of a community of mothers. Jealous of the ease in which they breezed through motherhood together, but it appears I am just a mom.

Ordinary. Like my mother.

My mother gave herself over to raising children. She worked and raised babies. She did both with no fanfare or glory. That was her life. She didn’t drink wine on playdates or have many friends. Motherhood was, I’m sure, like 18 years of whitewater rafting, solo—while my father cheered her on from the shore, maybe even tossed her some extra paddles.

I devoted endless energy dissecting what type of mom she was; in the end though, my brain continually lands on, “She was just a good mom.”

And that she was. An amazing, supportive, present mother.

Maybe that’s enough.

When my children are grown, and I look back at the years, I will probably wish I had logged more miles, completed more hobbies, and had more friends. Maybe even worn brightly-printed activewear to the local coffee shop. But as for what type of mother I hope I was, the answer is becoming clear.

I hope I am like my mom, just an ordinary mom. A good mom.

You may also like:

Somewhere Along the Way My Dreams Changed to Staying Home With You

Why Being a Mom is Enough

There’s No Glory in Motherhood

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

Pre-Order Now

Kristin Baldwin Homsi

Kristin Baldwin Homsi lives in Houston, TX with her husband and three children. She is a Strategy Manager in the Oil and Gas industry and an avid runner. Kristin began writing after the premature birth of her twins drastically altered the trajectory of her life. She chronicles her attempts to manage a career with three babies in her blog,

What Single Moms Really Need

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Mom holding toddler on hip outside on dirt road

No, you’re not a single mom for a weekend. I’ve heard it said at social gatherings, in passing at church, and on social media. Perhaps the words are being uttered in a state of awe as if comparing themselves to valiant warrior princesses, knights in shining armor, heroes.  Usually though, it’s an under-the-breath complaint about being left by their otherwise attentive and loving spouse for the week or weekend. “I’m a single mom this weekend; my husband is on a golfing trip with his brothers.” “My husband is away for work, so I feel like a single mom this week.” ...

Keep Reading

10 Lessons I Hope You Learn Playing Youth Sports

In: Kids, Motherhood
Boy dribbling down basketball court, black-and-white photo

Last night was my sixth grader’s last basketball game of the season. He played with many of the same gang of boyhood friends he has known since kindergarten. This year, however, they were introduced to a traveling team, older players, and much stiffer competition than they had encountered in the past. They stood the test and played their little boy hearts out. I am proud of my son, his team, his coaches, and all the familiar faces we came to know in the Greenwood Laboratory School cheering section each week, sometimes two to three times in one week!  Here’s to...

Keep Reading

I Love You At Every Stage

In: Kids, Motherhood
Three children at park, color photo

Confession: I love the 1-year-old phase. Our youngest is one and such a joy to be around. He’s still so cuddly, finds such joy in the smallest things, is learning new things every day, and smiles at every little thing his big brother and sister do. I love the 3-year-old phase. Our only girl is three. She has a flair for the dramatic, but she is very forthright with her feelings. “I’m having a hard time.” “I just miss my daddy when he’s at the Fire House.” “I’m a princess.” “God made me beautiful.” She is quick to be a...

Keep Reading

You Gave Him So Much More than a Haircut

In: Child, Motherhood
Baby boy with long hair, color photo

“Thank you for cutting his hair,” I’ve told Emily many times in passing, or lightheartedly over text. I wish I could show her what it actually means in my heart. “I’ll go in by myself,” he says. Instantly, my mind flashes from the achingly handsome 10-year-old standing in front of me to the toddler he once was. I see his 2-year-old self standing before me in our mudroom. Fresh from Kids Cuts, a soggy sticker on his T-shirt that reads “I GOT MY HAIRCUT.” A red and blotchy face from crying, eyes swollen. The buzz cut was the quickest way...

Keep Reading

Having a Late Preterm Baby Is Hard Too

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother holding infant, color photo

I see you, mama, who holds her breath while they bag your brand-new baby. Asking “is she okay?” and being met with “everything is fine” when you know that everything is not fine. The baby who was due in just a few weeks. The baby, who just a few hours earlier, you joked “wanted to surprise us early.” The baby who was fine on the monitors just minutes before. I see you, mama, when they tell you they are transporting your baby to the NICU. The baby you held for five minutes before they took her to the nursery for...

Keep Reading

You’re Never Alone in the Trenches of Motherhood

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding infant, color photo

This one goes out to all the mamas in the trenches. To the mamas in the kitchen stirring dinner with a baby on their hip. To the ones waking up an hour earlier than the rest of the house to pump after waking up countless times throughout the night to attend to both your toddler and baby. The ones who must take care of business from lobbies, bathroom floors, lunch breaks, and the carpool line. To the mamas who pass on their own birthday presents so their kid’s medical bills can be covered. RELATED: This is the Sacrifice of Motherhood...

Keep Reading

Simple Moments Shape Childhood

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little boy in shallow water of beach

Sometimes it’s the little things that can turn out to be the biggest things. Motherhood has made me appreciate the everyday moments, the simple moments, differently.  Being outdoors with my boys can be simple in theory, but I absolutely love the adventures we take. Whether we are hiking, biking, swimming, exploring, or checking out a new park, this momma knows it is time well spent.  RELATED: I’m Watching You Grow Up in the Little Moments Because whether they realize it or not, these memories being made are the special ones. The ones my boys will carry with them in their...

Keep Reading

When You Stop Running into My Arms, I Pray You Run to Jesus

In: Faith, Motherhood
Child and mother walking on beach in sunlight

I love seeing the light in my little girl’s eyes when I pick her up from school at the end of the day. Her eyes open wide, and she runs to me loudly saying, “Mommy!” for all to hear. I pick her up and give her a big hug and kiss on her cheek. She smiles ear to ear and knows she is loved and adored. She feels safe in my arms, and I pray that never changes. I want to always be her biggest cheerleader and greatest fan–holding the streamers on the sidelines in shades of brilliant gold encouraging...

Keep Reading

I Promise to Show Up for You

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother and daughter in garden

My child, I hope you know you can count on this: I will show up for you. I will show up when you wake in the middle of the night, when you get up too early or stay up too late. I will be there to make your meals, read you a story, and tuck you into bed. I will show up when you are sick—taking time off work, bringing you to the doctor, cleaning up your throw-up, and sitting up with you. I will show up at every game, sitting in the stands or a camp chair, freezing or...

Keep Reading

A Strong Woman Does Not Always Feel Strong

In: Motherhood
Woman holding baby on beach, color photo

You feel weak, mama, but you are strong  We wear our strength in many forms, barely noticing the feats we accomplish daily.  The strength of a mom can be seen carrying grocery bags from the trunk to the house, upstairs and down again, with a baby strapped to her chest.  The strength of a mom is pushing two kids on swings next to each other while inwardly dealing with a recent miscarriage eating away at her heart. She holds back tears while picturing a newborn in a stroller nearby watching. And the hole deepens. Yet she carries on.  The strength...

Keep Reading