Mother’s Day. What a weird ride, right?
I’m going to go back to the beginning. My mom. Here she is.
There I am. A pint sized bangs model. 90% bangs, 10% sass. I know what you’re thinking. It’s that my mom has beautiful feet. Look at that! Two kids in two years and not a flat foot in sight. That’s amazing. My nine pound baby Fred Flintstone’d my feet. I love my mom the way Norman Bates loved his mom-meaning when she dies I’ll just keep her in a rocking chair in the attic. My mom and I are very different, and one thing I’ve always loved about her is her gentleness and how she loves my brother and I despite our glaring personality flaws.
Now I am a mom. The nurse at the hospital just let me go home with a baby so I kept having them and they all call me mom and I’m in charge of them. I mean seriously, did anyone expect to be this tired from being a mom? ANYONE? And one day they’ll grow up and realize that I’ve screwed them up somehow (probably someone will publish my Dubsmashes on social media when they’re in Middle School) – but I do pray that the good Lord will let them love me anyway. I certainly do love them- those little goons. I have no saccharine thoughts or cliches to offer on Mother’s Day. Just that I’m glad that my mom was my mom. And that I’m thankful that the little children I have been given to mother are so quirky and squishy and fun. And I’m thankful that God gave me a kindred spirit in Nick so that I can laugh at them behind their backs when they are very bad so that I don’t have to beat them. Any good work I do in motherhood I credit to the good work of Jesus and the helpmates He’s given me. Whether that helpmate is bleach for poop things or mom friends for laughing at poop things, I’m thankful.
Happy Mother’s Day everybody!