I was talking with a friend the other day about parenting. She said, “I’m just not a super mom like you are.” Oh, if she only knew.
Luke and I talked about this recently. Sometimes I feel like I need to be more transparent about just how hard this whole parenting thing is. I’m not trying to deceive, but do you really want to hear about how hard things are? No one likes a whiner. Believe me, I have 3 little whiners at home. I ask them to be quiet all the time but they don’t listen. Instead I feed them goldfish. Friends, if I start whining to you, feel free to feed me wine and cheese, I promise to be quiet. That being said, we all need friends to help us when we are drowning and a few of you guys have thrown me some serious life rafts.
I could write a 10 page blog on my mom friends. They’re amazing and inspiring. If I didn’t have them, I’d go bananas. I have friends who work full time jobs and raise 4 kids, who “stay at home” while nannying other children to earn extra money, who give up so many things that they love to be there for the ones they love most.
And I’m telling ya friends … You guys are all SUPERMOMS.
My cousin, posted this poem a while ago and it has stuck with me. I find it very encouraging and several lines from it really strike a cord with me.
AHolyExperience Blog . . . It’s a mother’s day poem but it’s everyday life as a mom. I copy/pasted this exactly as she wrote it – italics, bold print and all.
If we’re honest– and what else is there really — there were burnt dinners and yelling mornings.
And neck strained words over lost shoes and scattered Legos and unfinished homework and there were crumpled tears behind bathroom doors.
Not to mention the frozen pizzas and no clean underwear and the wild words no one would want the cameras rolling for.
And the realization — that a mother’s labor and delivery never ends and you never stop having to remember to breathe.
I became a mother on the eve of Mother’s Day. The Saturday before the Sunday — at the oblivious age of twenty-one.
And just seven days after I’d dropped my own fragile mama off at a locked psych ward. That Mother’s day eve baby, he turns 19 this year, day after Mother’s Day. And there’s no point kidding anyone — we’re all a bit crazy.
The deal is — Motherhood isn’t sainthood and we’re all a bunch of sinners here and don’t let anyone tell you any different — pushing something out of your womb doesn’t make you a better woman.
Real Womanhood isn’t a function of becoming a great mother, but of being loved by your Great Father. Someone write that on a card with a bouquet of flowers. We all need that.
We all need that for the days that we hated our mothers — or hated being a mother.
When no room was big enough to find peace and no clock could tick fast enough to just get the day over with, and the truth is, facades only end up suffocating us all and it’s only telling the truth that lets you breathe —
and there really were days that felt pretty bad and looked pretty ugly.
And maybe that’s what it really was — maybe the days were pretty and ugly. Pretty…Ugly.
The ugly beautiful of reality and love and humanity and what it means to become real.
That was what was happening: the stacks of dishes and everests of laundry and the tantrums of toddlers and teenagers and tired mamas and all the scuffed up walls down the hall and through the heart, they were all wearing down the plastic of pride, wearing us down to the real wood of grace and the Cross. It really is okay.
To lose it and be found, to be rubbed the wrong way to be come the rightest way, to let all the hard times rub you down to real.
That’s just the pretty ugly of us — we’re not the Hallmark mother, just the Velveteen Mothers. The Velveteen Mothers who know when there’s a volleys of words and weary silences afterward and everything looks impossibly wrecked —
The angular, hard edges of perfection are being sanded down by all our scrapes and falls, till we’re round and soft and can get close enough to each other to just hold each other.
Only when you’re broken are you tender enough to wrap yourself around anyone.
Only the broken people can really embrace.
That’s us — could we just really hold onto each other?
Find each other and hold onto each other and offer the hug of the broken who know the relief that homemaking is about making a home, not perfection, that motherhood is a hallowed space because children aren’t commonplace, that anyone who fosters dreams and labor prayers is a mother to the child in us all.
We’ll be the holding-on-broken who know that it’s not that we won’t blow it but it’s what we’ll do with it afterwards, whose priorities aren’t things that get us noticed, but priorities are all Things Unseen, who keep praying to only speak words that make souls stronger and keep getting up when we fall down because this is always how things just fall together.
Just let them sell their truckloads of perfect Mother’s Day Cards.
There’s far more Velveteen Mothers who are broken into real and worn into beauty.
Who have busted the Balloon of Better Homes, Gardens and Women and live the Gospel of Grace and we’re done with perfection because we’re the Everyday Prodigals who are wasteful in love and extravagant in grace and recklessly spending our attention on the mercies of the Prodigal God.
God wants Prodigal Parents — not perfect parents.
Lavish in love, extravagant in truth, big spenders of grace.
I absolutely love that poem. I need to read it everyday. I have written different quotes from it on my bathroom mirror throughout the last couple of years. Lavish in love, extravagant in truth, big spenders of grace – I want to be this way with my kids.
Yummy Kids Recipes
I made these super easy kid snacks this week and they love them. I might have had a few bites myself. They are both no bake and made with ingredients that we almost always have in the fridge.
- 1 cup natural peanut butter or 1-1/2 cups natural almond butter (I used regular)
- ¾ cup honey
- 4 cups pre-made dark chocolate almond granola (or your favorite pre-made granola flavor) (I used a honey nut granola)
- 1 cup old-fashioned oatmeal
- ¾ cup dark chocolate chips, divided
- Line a 9 x 13-inch baking dish with parchment paper or foil and spray with non-stick cooking spray. Set aside.
- In a large mixing bowl or the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat together the peanut butter (or almond butter) and honey. Stir in the granola and oatmeal until well combined. Stir in ½ cup of the chocolate chips.
- Spread the mixture evenly into the prepared baking dish. Sprinkle with remaining ¼ cup chocolate chips. Use a spatula or your hands with parchment paper under them to press down firmly all over the top of the mixture making sure the top is smooth and the mixture is as compact in the dish as possible.
- At this point, you can lift the bars out of the dish (using the edges of the foil or parchment paper) and immediately cut into bars with a sharp knife or you can cover the dish with plastic wrap and place the bars in the refrigerator to firm them up even more, about 30 minutes, before cutting them into bars. Store cut bars in a sealed container in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks.
These are literally just yogurt topped with fruit and frozen. The link above has some pretty easy and fun snack ideas. They recommend you put the yogurt in paper cupcake holders or silicon cupcake holders.
The boys really like to help with baking. I think they just like to taste test the sugar (ha!) and argue over who gets to add which ingredients. We always make a mess but I really do enjoy cooking with them.
I want one of these coolers for outings with the kids this summer. I need something small to hold a sippy of milk and other small snacks. It’s so dang hot.
And speaking of moms (haha) . . . Father’s Day is coming up! Anyone have any good gift ideas?