Reflections of Motherhood

It’s been a rough beginning to the summer…not for my kids. For ME. If you’ve been unable to find a box of Puffs Plus at the grocery, it’s because I’ve bought all of it. I’ve gone into a bit of a teary decline, which can be attributed to the nostalgia that overwhelms me at the end of each school year.

 Just a week ago, for example, my house was filled with fourteen boys: my son and his friends. They’re not boys, really. They’re actually young men who are ready for high school. These are the same boys who used to fall asleep in my car on the way home from practice, and who pretended to sword fight in my back yard. Now they are all taller than I am, and have varied interests (which they tell me about in astonishingly deep voices!)

I also stopped by the high school last week and picked up my daughter, who, triumphant and tired after her last final exam, is now a senior. Her thoughts about the future, and the maturity and depth she brings to our conversations startles me at times… especially when, in the next breath, she regales me with a story laced with typical teenage verbiage and (an occasional roll of the eye….)

Sigh. It goes so fast. Sometimes, as I gaze at them, I feel like I’m watching them through time-lapse photography, aging a year per second. “Bittersweet” takes on a new meaning as I miss the chubby hands that reached for mine and the squeaky, infectious baby giggles, all the while loving the people my children are becoming. I have loved each milestone, each stage of their lives so far.  (Of course, some stages are less-easy to love!) There is an intimacy and richness to raising a child that is unlike any other experience. Even the tough days. Even on the days when you love your kid, but perhaps don’t like him at all. Even during the stages during which you question God’s wisdom in handing you this responsibility, or allowing this diagnosis, this set of circumstances, this pain. Even then. Especially then, because that’s when we realize that we are, as writer Dale Hanson Bourke states, “mere mortal women who stumble their way into this holiest of callings.”

My friend, Kate, shared this video today, and I hope you’ll take three minutes to enjoy its powerful message.

My reflection: Enjoy the ordinary days.


What advice would you give to yourself if you could go back to “right before” you had your first child?

PS: This video was made by a company that creates products for moms…this post isn’t a paid ad, nor an endorsement. Just so you know.

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