A Little Announcement….

Since I don't put my kiddos faces online, this outtake from their big brother photo shoot "Big Brother Academy" was the perfect way to share that I'm pregnant!  Eager to start a pregnancy at a healthy weight and with a healthy lifestyle and see all the difference it can make now and in the post partum!  But mostly eager to meet my sweet babe!  I'm 8 weeks today and due January 29th.  My boys have plenty of name ideas (pictured above), but J loves Rosie and E loves Howie.  They're both pretty excited for their big bro and double big bro promotions.  :)

The Infinite Summer

My feeds are full of photos.  Photos of kids with their smiles and their shiny new back packs and their Mothers squatting beside them all smiles (or red-eyed as they hold back the tears).  The shoes are scuff free and the clothes are still bright and unfaded.  It's the first day of school.

The captions of the photos fill me in on the grade the kid is entering and how the Mom feels about school.  Some are really excited.  They have their days back.  Some are really, really sad.  They'll miss their little ones.  Especially the Moms who's littlest ones are going to Kindergarten for the first time and they're alone for the first time in years.

And I have no judgement here.  No judgement because I look at the photos of the kids who's Mom is, "FINNNNALLLLY! We're all so excited and ready!" and I think about how nice it must be for your house to be clean for 8 hours.  Or how nice it must be to work out as long as you want or read a book or deep clean something or have lunch with a friend or go to the grocery store alone.  And I get a little jealous because that sounds so nice when you're in the thick of the little years and you have to choose between a good workout and maybe a shower, a nap, cleaning, or time to decompress in the one hour of down time you have in the day...

But then I look at the photos of the sad Moms.  I see their kids equally excited about school and friends and the adventure they're headed into but I read the words of their caption and feel the dread and the loneliness and the ache of missing their babies.  And I see tweets where people say, "I miss them being 2."  When I read those captions I wonder how does it really feel to sit in a clean house for 8 hours?  And when you're done with your work out and your shower and your chores and your groceries, what does it feel like to sit alone for 3 hours just waiting for the chaos and the smiles and the fighting to all come home so your house feels like home once again?

And as much as I'd like a day of quiet sometimes, I can't help but be grateful.  Photos in my feed are not of shiny new back packs, new unscuffed shoes, fresh hair cuts or a teary-eyed Mom sending her babies off to school... my photos are of an infinite summer we're stretching out because we can.  My boys and I are picnicking at the park and seeing movies and playing in the hose and going swimming and doing whatever we want whenever we want because these days are ours.  These moments are ours.  We have no resposibilities likes school.  Sure there's housework and there's working out and theirs some educating their minds here and there, but mostly there's time.  And while some days time feels like the enemy because it moves soooo slow, one day I'll be sending them away and time will still move slow while similtaneously moving way too fast.  Because the bridge between Kindergarten and senior year is quickly crossed.  I'm told by many they accidently blinked and their babies were gone and they wish they could come back here.  To the fights and the chaos and the time outs and the peeing in the pants because you were so excited to get in the pool you forgot to tell Mommy you had to go stuff of life.

So for now, I'm reminded to be thankful they're here with me.  We're at home eating cereal at 2pm and watching cartoons as we please and discussing the alphabet in between wrestling matches and doing chores only to watch them undone and laughing and playing and swimming and talking and soaking in these infinite days of summer before they expire and I send them off to school.

Lord, make time slow down.

Grace & An Easy Bake Oven

When I was seven I got an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas.  I've always loved cooking, but when you're a seven-year-old your freedom in the kitchen is limited (especially with all things that get hot). So, this little gizmo seemed like my ticket to cooking independently bliss.

I remembered after the wrapping paper was picked up and the parts of various toys were appropriately scattered about our living room I took (or probably my Dad took because hello, heavy!) that Easy Bake Oven to the kitchen table and unpacked it with glee.

It either came with or I was gifted a cake making set.  Right away I knew what I would do.  I would bake up eggs for my family as Christmas breakfast and then make a little cake for myself (and for them too... if they wanted it -- maybe).

So I unpacked and studied instructions and got to work.  I turned on the oven (which had a bulb to do the cooking... a BULB) and waited for it to warm up.  It took forever, but I was a happy camper so I waited.  Then I cooked an egg.  FOREVER.  Or so it seemed, but when you're seven five minutes can feel like days.  I remember finally giving up on the egg and moving on to the cake.  (Because really it was always all about the cake!)  And guess what?  It took FOREVER!!! And right when I thought it was done and pulled it out (most likely against my Mom's advice) I beamed with pride because I had made a cake!  By myself!  With my oven!  And then it collapsed in on itself because the center wasn't cooked.  ...After like, 1 hour of baking!

I'm pretty sure I never used that Easy Bake Oven again.  Sorry, Mom & Dad.

Parenting is a lot like cooking with an Easy Bake Oven when you're seven especially when you're in the thick of the toddler years and the disciplining.

With my oldest, we've been disciplining awhile.  But he's a few months shy of 3 now and independent and he understands things.  He understands that not taking a nap is more fun than taking a nap.  He understands that if he lays on the floor of a grocery store and screams and cries because he doesn't want to be there will get him attention and might make us leave.  He understands that if he pushes his brother, his brother will no longer be in the way; problem solved!  And right now parenting feels like that cake.

Things felt so good and we were making progress in all kinds of areas.  We transitioned them from co-sleeping to their own rooms.  J learned to count to 10.  E learned to walk.  Success was abounding!  And in my mind I felt like we'd made it through the twos without too much terrible.  So mentally, I pulled the cake and beamed and cheered and patted husband and myself on the back and of course the cake went flat in the middle.

And after all that waiting and work!!!

With E, we're just beginning disciplining more now that he's 18 months and saying "no" every 5 minutes and testing his boundaries.  But when you can see one year out and you watch that cake go flat after so much work you get so discouraged.  And you feel like...

I'm the worst Mom.
I'm failing.
I can't do this.
I'm horrible at this.
They'll never obey.
It's all out of control.

And so on and so forth.

The difference is that unlike my Easy Bake Oven, I can't give up.  I can't box it all back up and shove it to the back of my Mom's pots and pans cabinet.  This is my work and my job and unlike any other job in the whole wide world it's Eternal and it matters.  I've been assigned the task of bringing up two humans.  They'll be two men someday!  And sometimes, after days like today, that thought terrifies me as I picture grown-man-J lying on the grocery store floor kicking and screaming and crying about whatever.

I'm just keeping it real here tonight.  I don't have the answer or great wisdom to share if you feel in the thick of it parenting through these little years and are flustered and floundering.  I can just tell you you're not alone.  This is hard.  And friends with older kids say it gets better and that they are hearing the discipline and the correction and they will grow out of this fight-you-on-everything stage.  And I believe them, I do, and I try not to will time to speed up, I do, but some days I just want to fast forward to five and six and see what kind of little boys they are and how I did it.  How I got from here to there (hopefully) successfully.

But that's not possible.  And that's where grace comes in.  So much grace.  Daily grace.  Begging for grace.  And asking God to show me His grace to show them and His mercy and His patience and understanding time and time again.

Because you know what?  To Him, I'm probably a lot like an Easy Bake Oven cake.  I'm doing so great and feeling positive and seeking Him in this parenting role and I pull myself out too soon and I fall flat as I flounder and kick and scream and cry my way through the trenches of parenting.

I'm really no different than my 2.5 year old; at least not to Him.

And thus, grace.  Endless grace.  That's all I need.

holy work that matters.

Does it ever seem like each day feels the same?  Wake up, cook breakfast, change diapers, dress babies, insist brushing teeth is the most fun ever, put the baby down for a nap, begin laundry, wash dishes, oversee paint/Play Doh/marker time, change laundry, prepare lunch, do dishes, play, laundry, play, laundry, naps, laundry, dinner prep, try to convince everyone dinner is the best thing ever so they actually eat, say no to snacks, clean dishes, pick up toys, supervise baths, put kids to bed.  

Days are usually this.  Especially in these winter months when it's too cold to leave and go some place or even just outside and let a little sunshine break up the monotony.  And simple things like chores and laundry or a clean floor last seconds before you're ushered back to do it all again while you hear the same little kid show playing in the background and you're so sick of Pablo and all his Backyard buddies for crying out loud!

These are the little years.  The days seem so long but they pass quickly and the years are short.  They're filled with works - lots of work - and sometimes the monotonous work stands out more than the other work.  The raising up humans work.

And in between the chores and the discipline and the nourishing you forget about the day's victories.  The 16-month old who is walking around the place about 70% of the time who couldn't do that 3 weeks ago.  The 2.5 year old who's talking to you about EVERYTHING and asking questions and seeking answers.  The bond forged between brothers daily and the moments they slip away from your site (probably whilst your doing laundry again) and you hear them just cackling away in their bedroom.

This is the Mom stuff.  It's good stuff.  I've read a lot lately about how it's holy stuff these moments of monotony and glory and working with our hands.  These moments we spend wringing out the dish towel and wrapping our arms around a crying little one to hold them as we did when they were small.  These moments we spend folding the small socks and the moments we spend counting toes and teaching... it's all holy.  It's all important.  Every day matters and every day no matter how you are feeling in regards to "I. CAN'T. DO. THIS. SAME. THING. ONE. MORE. DAY." you can and you love it and I know that because I can and love it too.  I agree.  It's holy.  And it's holy because it matters.  We matter.  You matter.  I matter.  This, the raising of our little people, is everything.

*Linked up for Just Write.

Why did I yell?

Yesterday was a Monday going well.  The boys and I had a quiet morning playing and accomplishing chores.  We even tried hot chocolate (they hated it!) and tried to watch Elf (they hated it!) and eventually ventured out to our backyard where they discovered dirt and played in it as long as they could before they had to come in for baths.  They got so, so dirty.  They were the epitome of little boys.  And then there were naps and finally it was time to cook dinner and that's when things went south...

J (who is 2 and 4 months) wanted attention I couldn't give him the moment he wanted it and had been feeling a little defiant since he woke up any way (testing me here, pushing his brother there, coloring chairs... 2-year-old stuff).  So, unbeknownst to me he climbed onto the table and threw all the apples out of a fruit bowl I love and recently bought myself (I had even waited until it was on clearance) and then dropped it on the floor either accidentally or on purpose.  I heard the shatter and ran the 10 feet from the kitchen sink to where he was to see what happened.

You know when you know your kid has done something wrong and has no remorse or awareness?  And you know that moment where you have to decide how to punish and your reaction?  And do you know or remember when you had your first child and it was all testing what works and learning how patient you could be?  Well, I had that moment.  I weighed out that J seems unaffected by spanking and even time outs most of the time and I decided to just unleash my inner frustration and yell because it seemed logic and I knew if I yelled he'd at least hear me (so logical, right?).  So I yelled because I was mad and hurt and mad and I yelled a lot and loudly about WHY did he do that and Mommy LOVED that and how he HURT my feelings and with every word he shrunk lower and lower.  I was only a few seconds into the yelling when his face dropped, he buried his head and he started sobbing.  And consequently so did I.  I felt horrible and was laced with regret and remorse and WHY did I do that? I loved him more than that stupid bowl and I just hurt him.

And so I held him and he cried and I told him I was sorry for yelling and that I loved him and I asked him why he broke the bowl and he didn't answer because he still is too young to understand these things probably and finally I asked him to help me make the salad because I knew that would make him happy.

I texted my Mom and talked to Josh about it that night.  They both agreed I was right to discipline and while maybe I overreacted, he needed to know Mommy is a human too and you can't hurt people because you're mad.  And they're right, but I'm right too in that I did it all wrong.

So now here I am.  I have a 2-year-old boy who's in the thick of wanting his way and learning defiance and developing his own will and I have to figure out how to navigate through these waters without losing my head.

I went to breakfast with my Dad today and we talked about parenting.  We talked about how the toddler years are hard but how it gets harder because new challenges come up.  Sure, you get through the diaper stage and the not knowing how to puke in the toilet phase and the bed wetting, but you move into new challenges and that's just how it is.  Parenting is hard and it takes 18 years and sometimes it takes until the 17th or 18th year to feel like you've even done anything right.  Raising a human is hard.

So I shared this today because maybe raising a human was hard for you too today or it will be tomorrow or next week.  And maybe you'll yell.  And maybe you'll make your toddler cry and feel guilty and feel like you shouldn't feel guilty and this will encourage you because you're not alone.  And someone else doesn't have it figured it out either, but hey, we're all in this together and going through it right now.  This is a season.

Messy Motherhood: Encouragement

I'm happy to take a break from writing about food or parties and essentially the things I've been doing to REALLY talk about the thing I live to do: Motherhood.

Did you read Kara's 31 days of Messy Motherhood (she actually stuck it out all 31 days in October unlike me!)?  If not, you should.  It won't take long, but you'll be encouraged.  I know I sure was (go here to read) and sometimes her words and encouragement hit the nail on the head for me.  I think the most encouraging thing in the world is finding out you are not alone in ____.  One day, that was reading that I was not alone in going days without a shower.  Another day, that was reading that what I was doing was important because it's so easy for it to feel unimportant.  Another day, it was a reminder everyone's house looks as terrible as mine.  See?  Encouragement.

So, at the end of her 31 days, I was excited to hear Kara was doing a link up each month to continue the encouragement.  I wanted to be a part of the series because like her, I feel so deeply for Moms in this season of life (or any season, really, this is just the season I know) at home each day with babies and toddlers and diaper changes and counting practice and beautiful monotony that is the shaping of little minds and hearts.

That being said, here's my answers to the questions Kara posted this month on encouragement.

1. What is the best way you've been encouraged as a Mom?

Having friends who are real with me and also in the trenches.  This season is hard and it was made harder when I spent most of last year having two under two.  I have plenty of friends I can chat with, but there are a few who I can really dive deep with in real life or on social media and those friendships are invaluable.  CS Lewis (who our first born is named for!) said that friendship is defined as, "What? You too?" and I totally agree.  The women who have blessed me so much are the ones who are open and honest about their dirty houses, their frustrations, their struggles with feeling lonely or isolated or anxious or angry or whatever!  Those friends who are real with me allow me to open up and express my slew of emotions and then when those emotions are uncovered, I'm a better Mom and wife.  If there were no conversations with loved ones who also KNOW what I'm going through on a certain day, it's likely I'd end that day feeling like an even worse Mom and wife for losing my temper and being disconnected.  I'm thankful for you, my friends, who do life in a real way side by side with these boys of mine and me and help keep me sane.  Thank you!

2. How can you encourage a Mom who's been through the ringer? (bed rest, sick kids, tough home life, etc)

Honestly?  I don't know.  I wish I did because I have people I wish I could be better at encouraging who are in these situations.  I never know what to do, if I'm doing enough or if I'm trying to do too much and am being overly involved and an unwelcome presence.  That being said, my go to way to help a Mom friend in need are...

- Make a meal or two (one to eat tonight, one to freeze for later).
- Send snail mail.  Who doesn't love pretty mail and it's amazing how a little card can lift someone's spirits!
- Offer to babysit their kids even if it's just for an hour so they can take a nap, meet their husband for lunch, or go to the grocery store alone.
- Get a small gift card for the Mom to treat herself.  Maybe you'd love to go for coffee but she's occupied with whatever.  Why not send her a $5 Starbucks gift card so she can pick up a cup when she's out and about and think of you.
- Prayers.  It seems the least effective outreach on paper, but it matters and I have had plenty of days where a text from a good friend saying she's praying for me has been such a blessing and I've known if not for her prayers, I wouldn't have made it through the day.  Recently I weaned my baby and I got a text from my Aunt saying she was praying for me and I responded to tell her how hard E was having it even in that moment.  She immediately responded that she was now praying for him and as soon as I read her text, he fell asleep for the first time all day.  Prayer is powerful and moments like that where you see it work you feel so very blessed that someone would take the time to pray for you.

3. Encouragement starts at home. How do you and your husband encourage one another?

My husband is great about reminding me that I'm a good Mom, wife, cook, etc.  Those words of affirmation are important to me and help keep me going.  He's also good about not complaining too much if the house is in disarray for several days when he knows we've had a tough week.  I personally like to have it clean because I feel better when it's clean and I feel like he deserves that after a hard day, but when I let myself down it's always good to know I haven't let him down.  Likewise, I try to thank my husband for working so hard so I can stay home and live my dream job.  It's all about perspective even on those rough days!  I talk to him about how good of a Dad he is and thank him for being such a wonderful husband.  We make time to spend together each night which is refreshing and fun and causing us to reconnect (we also frequently exchange shoulder rubs or back scratching - yay!).  And more recently, we've taken up not only praying for each other, but letting each other know we're praying for each other especially if we know the other has a particularly rough day ahead.  It means the world to get a text about how proud he is of me and how he's praying for me especially because I know he's SO busy at work and I appreciate him taking time out just to think of me and tell me these things on his mind and heart.

.......

And one more thing... Something I try to do (and don't always succeed at) is to not judge other Moms.  We all make different decisions about how we raise our kids and these decisions are usually always wrestled through and prayed over and they're what we believe are right for our families.  Some Moms cosleep.  Some Moms have their babies cry it out.  Some Moms let their kids do this or that or eat this or that and a slew of other things.  I get so sad and frustrated when I see the "Mommy Wars" because there is no way to tear another Mother down faster than offer your unsolicited opinion of something she has obviously thought out.  We're all different and it's because we were all raised differently.  Likewise, we are all raising our kids differently to see them become individual themselves as adults.  The best encouragement advice I can give is try, try, try not to judge and instead to love.  Feel free to talk about what you do but don't feel like talking about your differences means you need to comment on what your Mom friend is doing differently.  ;)

Worry & Perspective

The littlest one's birthday is in just 6 days.  His party is only in 4 days.  There's a lot of energy and focus being put on him and celebrating this mark of his completing the first year of his life.  While I have plenty of overwhelming feelings about my baby turning one - the key of which being, "HOW?!" - I have a lot of feelings that have erupted in me regarding my oldest and it's those feelings I need to vocalize first.

One year ago, I was a mess of emotion.  I was overwhelmed and so very excited to be ushering in a new son, but I was horrified at how it would effect J.  I was so very afraid he'd change.  I thought when he met his brother and had to deal with the divided attention from me (and others) without being old enough to comprehend it, he'd just really... well, I'm not sure what exactly I thought would happen, I just knew it'd be awful and it'd be all my fault.  And I just knew it'd translate into hatred of me and of his brother and sadness and a change in his overall happy, spirited, adventurous personality.  There were so many nights I spent worrying over him.  That worry combined with the normal worry a pregnant woman has for the baby inside of her lead me to having an anxiety attack one night in the second trimester.  It was an attack complete with hyperventilating and an inability to regain control of my emotions that landed me in the ER with my husband.  That was a low.

Looking back I understand a lot of those extreme feelings were hormones.  Some natural, some not, but mostly the hormones were the route of the worry and the fear.  But honestly they were not 100% of the cause.  I'm that way naturally.  I worry.  I fear.  I think of the worst thing and dwell on it mentally while outwardly portraying myself as the most positive person ever (this is not a lie, per say, it's more my attempt at tricking myself into being a very optimistic person! lol).  It's a major flaw of mine.  And while I've had life experiences that justify certain types of worry, and while I'm a "clued in" enough person to know it's good to be a little worried because it keeps you cautious and ever-present in the happenings in and around your child's life, I know deep down worry to an extreme extent is not right.  And it's not healthy.

So while I sit here a year later, literally typing this post with J on my back, arms wrapped around my neck and nose smashed into my ear so I can hear him breathing while down below us E is playing with a balloon... I have perspective.  We've survived a year as a family of four.  I lived a year as a Mom to two little boys.  I braved hurdles like actually going to sleep, taking a shower while being the only adult in the house, taking both of my children out with other adults, taking my children out by myself, figuring out how to spend one-on-one time with each boy at some point during the day while still taking time for myself... I don't have it all figured it out perfectly, but I've figured it out in a way that works and guess what?  We're all happy.

We're all giving and getting attention and working together and loving each other and there are fights.  Yes.  There is jealousy.  Yes.  There were very hard moments in the beginning were J did look at E like, "You're ruining my life!" and were I sat sobbing in a hospital room overwhelmed with the baby crying for me besides me while I could hear my toddler screaming, "Mom! Mommy!" over the phone as my husband explained to me J was walking around the house looking for me... But now MOST days they get along.  Now, MOST days I find them playing together at some point.  And although there's constant correcting (..."Don't ride E like a horse!"  "Don't talk to E like a dog!"  "Don't take his toy!" "E, don't pull his hair!"  "E, you spilled his milk!") there's a bond.  There's a precious brother bond I dreamed of and hoped for and it's in it's very early stages of development, but it exists and in it I'm reminded that I didn't ruin J's life and that as a result of a brother 14 months younger than him he did not change.  He's still happy.  He's still brave.  He's still adventurous.  And now he's more things... he's mature and kind and he shares well and he cares about people - especially little people.  He is good and he's made better for having his little brother.

I know there will be moments J might feel like E ruins his life.  Especially when they're teenagers and life gets so dramatic, but I know something now I wasn't sure of a year ago.  By having a brother only 14 months younger than him, we've enhanced J's life.  My dream is that it's always enhanced in that he has a forever best friend (maybe he and E can even been the next "Property Brothers" or like Owen and Luke Wilson...) he stays close to throughout adulthood, but if that doesn't happen, I realize that at least he has someone to teach him more about character and being a better more loving person.

I should really worry less.  The things I obsess and freak out over tend to work out in ways that are so far beyond my comprehension of the thing in the moment, and often, they work out to be really, really great things that didn't need so much worry and overanalyzing in the first place.

I tweeted this yesterday. Follow me here if you're on Twitter!

I'm linking up with Heather and the Extraordinary Ordinary for "Just Write" for the first time today.  I love using this blog for tips, pretty things, and recipes, but it's nice to open up and share my heart with you all too.

*31 days will resume tomorrow where I'll talk about actual costs of a Disney World trip.

What I've Learned About Mothers

Today I'm taking a little break from recipe posts to write about Mothering in honor of Mother's day.

As Mothers, we are all in different stages of our journey.  Some, have adult children and are realizing that finally being able to sleep in again would gladly be exchanged for just one more day having their babies back in their nest as tiny ones who need them.  Some Moms are in the throws of the teenage years contending with the drama and the life choices and they feel pain letting their child choose a path they wouldn't have chose and are trying to cope.  Some Moms are in the elementary stage and they're busy.  There's homework and soccer practice and PTA meetings and volunteering at school and you want to fit in and keep up and still be the best you can be but you're tired.  Some Moms, and I am this Mom, are in the throws of toddlerhood contending with attitudes and tempers and a testing of authority all while holding a baby on the hip who wants to rip your earrings out and is crying for attention.  And some Moms are waiting.  They're ready to get the parenthood process going but their young one hasn't arrived.  Their hearts may be hopeful and the days of waiting may be long, but their blessing is coming and so are each of the aforementioned stages.

And no matter what our stage, we're all connected.  We're all laced together by our houses always littered with clutter no matter how hard we try to keep it clean, our kitchens that seem to reproduce a dirty dish at a rapid rate, our fight to lose baby weight or be a little healthier, our want to have friends who understand, our days we feel inadequate... we are all the same.

Before I was a Mom, I thought I'd be so different.  I thought I'd maintain a clean home, my children would have a 30 minute TV limit, my dinners would always be delicious and extravagant and ready for Josh when he got home.  I couldn't understand why you'd put a kid on a leash.  I couldn't image being so tired you'd fall asleep once a week at 9.  I couldn't imagine kids effecting a marriage or anything hard.  It seemed so easy even though I still knew it would be hard.  And then kids came and for nearly two years I've eaten my fair share of humble pie.  I now attempt to withhold all judgement from my fellow Moms because we're all in this same ship where we steer through storms and calm waters alike and hope that when we find land and our children are grown we will have steered correctly and they will be great.  And we're all just trying so hard every day to do the very best we can do to keep our kids safe, healthy, and happy.

Being a Mom has been an extraordinary treasure and gift.  And as I mentioned, it has been so very humbling.  There is no quicker way to unravel and expose all of your flaws, fears, selfishness, and pride than to Mother a child.  Each day you are stretched and broken and through it all you smile not because you have to, but because you want to.  Because even though this is the hardest job you'll ever have, it is the best job you will ever have and you are so very grateful and you feel so blessed.

I truly believe we all feel this way as Moms.  I believe we all share this bond together of knowing; knowing each other's battles at each stage and having compassion for the hardships and joy over the triumphs because we've been there and we know it always gets better when it's bad and the good moments get even better too.

So I'm thankful for today; this day we celebrate Motherhood.  I'm thankful, not only for the sleeping in and the break from diaper changes and the flowers and the beautiful mug from Anthropologie, but also for the reminder of who I am as a Mother and how blessed I am to be living this role.  I'm reminded of how grateful I am for my beautiful sons who I sometimes feel completely inadequate to Mother as much as they deserve to be Mothered and also so blessed to love and call my own.  I'm thankful for my husband who lifts me up daily when I feel weak or inadequate and who celebrates our children with me and who doesn't mind a house that looks like a toy bomb exploded in.  I'm thankful for my village; for family -- especially my own Mom -- and friends who support me and who love on my children and pray for them and are a blessing to us all through being in our lives.  And I'm thankful for the bond we all share as Mothers.  The Mommy Wars are ever prevalent within society between the working Moms and the SAHMs or those who co-sleep and those who let babies cry it out or those who do homeschool and those who do public school or those who... there's always a war.  But deep down inside no matter how we believe about the little things, we're all connected by this bond of Motherhood and the fact that some little person loves us, depends on us, and needs us and we love them, need them, and fight for them daily with all the ferociousness we have.  In that, we are all the same.

Happy Mother's day, my friends!

(All images today taken through Instagram and are images of my own Mother's Day.)