The Purest of Hearts

I asked you one afternoon what makes you happy. The pureness and innocence of your answer shook me.  I expected to hear "going to x place" or a particular toy. But true to who you are at your core, your answer was pure and simple. You answered "love." You quickly followed that by saying you loved Valentine's Day because it was all about love.

Oh my heart! I was taken aback by the honesty and deepness that you didn't even know those words held.  To your four year old self, it was genuine and that pureness melted my heart.  It melted my heart and made me think just how much we miss out on as adults.

Honestly, I'm not sure that my answer would have been as selfless.  You see love not just for yourself, but for others.  To you seeing and feeling that connection makes you happy.  I love how your youth and innocence make me reevaluate my thoughts.  My honest answer would have been "hanging out with you girls and daddy." While my answer is genuine and honest, it's not near as pure. Whereas my answer centered around my little world and what makes me content, yours centered around others not just yourself.

My sweet child, I pray that you never lose that goodness.  I hope you never stop finding your happiness in love for others and seeing their happiness through love.  You, my love, have the purest of hearts and I pray that you never let the ugliness of this world jade that beautiful heart. The world needs more of you; more that understand that love and happiness extend far beyond themselves.  You my darling girl have a light to lead the way --- shine bright little one.  Shine bright.

Breathe It In

She tugged on my heartstrings with "Mommy, I really miss you when I'm at school." Naturally, my response was "oh sweet girl, I miss you too."  Then she looked at me dead on and said "no, I really, really miss you. Can I take that scrunchie thing that smells like you with me tomorrow? And maybe can we spray extra perfume on it so it really stays smelling like you?" Heart melted. Absolutely. My scrunchie was thoroughly sprayed, and taken upstairs to bed, because sometimes she misses me when she sleeps too. When I got home this evening it was still wrapped around her wrist and she cried when pizza sauce hit it because it might cover up the smell. We washed it up as good as new and she went on her way with the damp scrunchie still around her wrist.

I guess I'd never really given it much thought that the comfort I find in breathing in the tops of each little head as I give hugs and kisses, is the same comfort they find snuggled in my arms breathing me in.  Yet when I slow down and think about it they constantly are doing just that. Afton always giggles and sniffs me as I sit in my jammies after my shower.  Maui always buries her head in my neck as I sing bedtime songs. Aspen always snuggles my neck when she's sitting on my lap. Brylynn brought it all together when she asked for my scrunchie.

I feel like I'm always running around trying to fit life in and yet not miss the sweetness of them being little. I'm constantly trying to remind myself to breathe it in and enjoy it.  I think often of the sweet summer smell of little girls that have played outside dressed as princesses. I relish the crisp smell of smoke from the fall campfire that lingers in their hair. I try desperately to drink in the sweet smell of them and not miss it.

It's easy to feel like I'm missing the mark, that I may not be living up to being the best mom in the world. Honestly, I'm probably not and that's ok. It's ok because each time I feel like I'm falling short, one of my girls reminds me that I'm exactly what they need all the time. I'm the smell that they breathe in that makes them feel safe.  I'm the smell of home.  I'm the smell of safe. I'm the smell of love. And they breathe that in and live life.  What they're breathing in is feeding their souls and from my view, they've got some of the most beautiful souls I've ever seen.

So I'll breathe in all their little girl sweetness and breathe out the sometimes long breathes of exhaustion.  I'll keep giggling with each sniff and hug tighter with each snuggle, so they can keep breathing in the love that keeps them going and growing.

You Are The Joy Of Kindergarten

You bounded into my room before the alarm went off. You were fully dressed and ready to go. The sparkle in your eyes was joyful and the smile on your face was contagious. You my sweet girl were the epitome of the joy that only a Kindergartner can exude.

This wasn't the first day of school upon which I would expect this enthusiasm. It's been the first day and every day since. You love school and the independence it brings!

Each day you awake with excitement for what your day holds. You are up and ready to take on the day because the possibilities in your world are endless. Oh what we could learn from you! You don't see the challenges that each day presents, you see the possibility and things to learn from those obstacles. To you, they are a new opportunity to learn.

Kindergarten gives you the ability to show your skills. Each night I watch you pick out your clothes with care (often either long sleeves or pants because that's what you love to wear regardless of weather).  Each morning you come down dressed and ready to go with the eagerness of someone that's been given the freedom to completely be themselves.

You giggle through breakfast and look forward to what you're going to learn today. You can't wait to do math.  The idea of reading on your own excites you.

Each evening you come home excited to tell me about your day.  You tell me what you learned, what you ate, what you played.  You love it all.  The joy in you is palatable.

Part of me struggles with how big you've become in such a short period of time.  Part of me wants you to stay little forever. But most of me loves this. I love watching you grow. You've been waiting for a long time (in your mind) for Kindergarten.  I've known you'd love it and would do well. What I didn't know, is that I'd see the true joy of Kindergarten. The world has new possibilities through your eyes and I love that I'm getting to see it through those beautiful eyes.

I pray you never lose that excitement for life. I hope you forever love learning. I pray that even as you grow, you see the world with the joy of a Kindergartner.

I Love You Enough To Not

As parents, we naturally want more and better for our children then what we had regardless of how great or bad our childhood was.  We instinctively want to give them all the we didn't have and more.  Perhaps it's rooted in the things we feel we missed out on or the things we swore as parents we'd never do (or we would do). 

I'm no exception to that idea.  I want to give my girls the world and to experience things that I wasn't able to. I want them to have more than I did, but not just material things. We're a little better off than my parents were at this stage in the game, so it makes me that much more anxious to do things for them. But here's the thing, I love them enough to not.

Sounds crazy right?  How can you say you love your kids enough to not?  Well in my mind, it's fairly simple. I absolutely want you to have the world, but I don't want you to feel entitled to it. I think that that's where we as a society have went wrong.  We've become so focused on giving our kids more than we had and being more than what our parents were, that we've missed the mark and have created kids that think they should have everything they want, when they want it.

So my sweet, beautiful girls, I love you enough to not.

*I love you enough to not give you your way when you've thrown a fit because you want something. I love you enough to remove you from the situation and let you realize that there are better ways to get what we want than to scream, shout, and act a fool.

*I love you enough to not fight your battles for you. In life, there will always be obstacles, some big, some small.  As your mother, I do you a disservice if I can't help you find ways to problem solve and overcome without me.  Unfortunately, you won't win every battle and it'll hurt.  But as your mom, I promise to help you find the lesson in the loss. You'll have better character and life skills because you did it on your own.

*I love you enough to not let you think you can do no wrong.  Entitlement comes in many forms.  Inability to accept ones own responsibility and ownership in things is one of them.  I'll always be in your corner.  I'll always be there to support you.  I'll always be your biggest fan.  But I won't give you the false perception that you're always right.

*I love you enough to not give you everything you want.  It's not because we can't in a lot situations, but rather it's because we can't always get what we want.  I want you to know the value of things.  Sometimes, I feel like we've lost that in the mass quantities of things that you have.  I want you to know the value of not only the thing that you want, but the satisfaction of working hard to have it.  I don't think you're too young to start working for something that you really want. You'll value it more and have more pride in yourself for working hard for something than you ever would something we just hand to you.  So while we'll give you somethings, know that I love you enough to not give you everything.

*I love you enough to not bail you out of bad situations.  Similarly to not fighting your battles for you, I love you enough to not not give you the opportunity to figure out how to make a situation right. I'll guide you and be there for you if you need to work something out whether with a family member, teacher, or friend, but I'll let you lead. You need to know that life will throw you some tough situations in all walks of life and while I'll always be there to bounce ideas off of and assist you, I want you to have the confidence of being able to navigate tough seas on your own.

*I love you enough to not spend $36,000 on food alone at your wedding (or really anywhere in that ballpark). I pray for your future constantly, including for your future husband.  I know that you'll be an absolutely gorgeous bride.  I want your wedding to be everything you hoped for, but I won't spend an absurd amount of money. I love you enough to recognize that your future can benefit so much more if that money was directed to something long term.  Realistically, you won't remember the food from that day. I want your memories of that day to be special and joyful in the fact that you were united with the man you get to love for the rest of your life. Ten years down the road, you'll think that any large amount of money could have been spent on something much better for the two of you or the family that you may choose to start.

It's not all encompassing, and there are many other things that I love you enough to not let you or me do.  I only want the best for you my sweet girls.  Over the years, you'll be mad at me for all the things that I love you enough to not let you do, but I also hope that one day you'll appreciate it as well.  Just know, that it's because I love you more.

The "C" word

It's been a little over one month.  One whole month.  May 28, 2019 to be exact, our anniversary.  Looking back over the last fourteen years, that date is typically a celebratory time. Outside of our wedding day, most are pretty happy (if you don't know all the drama from the original May 28th, ask me sometime).  Perspective and time sure changes how bad or good something was.

This year, I was hoping for the call that said everything was ok.  I was hoping and praying against what the numbers were telling us, that everything was a-ok.  I just knew that because it was our anniversary that we were going to get happy news.  Unfortunately, cancer doesn't care what the day is or who the person is.

Cancer.  It's the ugliest, scariest, most uncertain "c" word around.  When Rob called to tell me that the doctor said he had prostate cancer, I felt like I'd been sucker punched in the gut.  Mostly certainly not the news I was hoping for.  So I did what I do and said "it's going to be alright, at least we know what we're dealing with."

The people we told always responded with sympathy, and usually with "it's one of the most treatable cancers" or "it's very treatable."  Those things are true and I know that they are meant to be encouraging, but regardless, that doesn't change the fact that it sucks and it's scary. And I found myself putting on a brave front to support their reaction, so I always said "that's the good news, it is. The success rate is high." It seemed simpler than saying "hey can you wallow here in pity land for a minute."

Scary.  It's hard for me to say "I'm scared."  It took me over a month to admit that.  I really thought that Rob just needed me to be strong.  Little did I know that my facade was eating me alive.  Because the world that I ultimately know that I have no control over, but go about acting like I do, was slipping through my fingers with uncertainty.  The uncertainty created a whole world of fear that I have never experienced before.

Every spiraling thought about Rob and life without him has come into my mind.  That led me to how any and all of this effects my kids.  Basically every rabbit hole that I've never allowed myself to explore, fear found a way to extract.  I don't live my life in fear, because most days, I know who I am and who has control of my life...and it's not me.  But for the last month, fear shook me.

See during this month, though I was praying to my God that I KNOW is bigger than anything, I was still letting Satan sneak in.   Why though?  The best I can come up with is because it really and truly is out of my control.  I have no control over the outcome of Rob's surgery.  I have no control of how long I get to keep him or my girls.  And though I've always known that, it's slapping me in the face, breaking my heart and terrifying me.  Mostly because I honestly can't imagine my life without any piece of that puzzle, we all fit together.

After I finally admitted it, admitted I was scared, things changed.  Fear doesn't grip me.  Now don't get me wrong, I still worry some, but it doesn't consume me.  Instead I'm clinging to the truth I know and remembering to remind myself  "Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You" Psalm 56:3.  My God is bigger than any "c" word and I'm claiming His promise for Rob.

As with most of the trials I share, I know that this is just part of our story.  A story that someone else will benefit from somewhere down the line.  Do I hate that this is part of our story?  Yes, absolutely.  But, I also believe that God has a plan, a plan for victory, recovery, and healing.

So while it's part of our story now, I know that years down the road, it'll just be another chapter in our book.  A chapter that isn't my favorite, but one that shows our kids that God is bigger and we can overcome anything that is thrown our way.  It's a chapter that someone else may need a page from, an ear to talk to, or a shoulder to lean on and it comes from us.

For now, I'm soaking up every second I know that I have and remembering that nothing is promised.  I'm holding things a little tighter and prioritizing a little more than usual.  If there's one thing that the ugly "c" word does, it reminds us to cling a little more to the things we love.  And this guy and these girls are my whole wide world

I'll continue to thank God for every second I have with them for as long as he lets me stay here.



**If you are going through a situation that seems scary, know that there are others that are here and willing to talk.  Don't be afraid to reach out.  I'm so grateful to those that shared their experiences with us**

Modern Mother

I remember vividly the embarrassment and dismay as I walked from Auntie Anne's to the bench where my mother sat. The poor stranger on the bench cornered by the photo album, smiling politely, as my mom jabbered on about us.  This was the norm more often than not when we went somewhere.  My mom had an uncanny ability to find people that she didn't know and show us off through the small photo album she carried with her.  I'm guessing (though I out of embarrassment often didn't stick around to hear) that she shared the back story with every picture to every person that was kind enough to listen.

I remember as a kid wondering why on earth my mom would do that, show complete strangers pictures of us like they actually cared. Flash forward twenty years and here I am. No, I'm not likely to be found cornering an unsuspecting stranger on a bench at the mall with the pictures of my kids, but I am likely to be found oversharing pictures of them on Facebook and Instagram. 

Do I still think that my mom was a little crazy? Yes, of course, I'm pretty sure that's my job as her child and I fully expect my kids to feel the same years down the line.  But, years later, I get it. Her reasons for sharing the photo album is the same reason that I share mine in the digital era that we live in.

She did it because she loved us and we made her proud. I get that because that's exactly why I do it. I think my kids are pretty much the greatest things since sliced bread and I want to share that with almost anyone willing to listen. I do it because I hope that it will give me a chance when I'm out and about with or without them, to talk about them.  Because sharing even a little bit of them and getting to talk about them for a quick second makes me smile and my heart swell. And I tend to believe that my mom did it for the exact same reasons.

I hope that I get the quick minute when you tell me that you love to see pictures of my girls to tell you about Maui's sweet heart that beats for Jesus and her love for art. I hope to tell you about how quick and smart my Bry is and that she keeps me on my toes. I hope I get a chance to tell you about Aspen and how she always makes you feel great because she tells you how beautiful you are and that she wants to be a ballerina now and a mommy when she grows up.  And I hope that I get to tell you about Afton and how she makes me laugh with her stubborn will way more than she should and how funny she is.  It's not all encompassing, but it's enough to make me smile and share the gifts that they are.

In reality, I'm a modern mother just doing the same thing that mothers have done for years before me, but on a larger platform. That's what we do, we tell everyone that we can about how great our kids are. We love hard and share as much as we can.  Years down the line, I hope that whatever medium that my girls have, they too are just a modern mother, sharing the story of the kiddos that they love with anyone that will listen.

You've Got My Heart Kid

There are days when I feel like I'm doing alright at this mom gig. Today, Maui thanked me for always being there for her, even adding that I'm the best. Those are the good days. However, if you've ever been around kids for more than a minute, you know that it takes about 3.5 seconds for them to learn how to push your buttons. As a parent, you expect those days.

Then there are the days, that you cry after everyone is in bed. You cry because you hate how you feel. You cry because you feel hopeless. You cry because words sting. You wonder how to put those feelings back into the box and carry on like it ain't no thing.

The other night, you were sitting on my lap. As we sat, you asked me why I am always mad at you and always scream at you.  My first reaction was irritation. Then I was frustrated and hurt. It didn't matter what I countered with, you were sticking to your guns. Added bonus when I was putting you to bed, you told me I needed to brush my teeth because my mouth stunk. Most days I would have brushed that one off and made some goofy joke with you about it, but it just added insult to injury this night.

This was a night that I went to bed crying. I got up and watched you sleep. I laid next to you and kissed your sweet head and I felt awful. I hated that I made you feel like anything less than the absolute gift you are to me.

From the day you were born Brylynn, you've challenged me. You've tried my patience. You've made me work to know you, you're not the open book your older sister was. You've taught me things and made me learn how to adapt. You are you -- un-apologetically and perfectly you. I've always said that you are your father's child without a doubt and overall, you are, but you are also part me.

It took the other night, hearing the words that cut to my soul, and a couple of days of processing to figure it out, but you are mine. You stretch me because you are me. You're harder for me to handle because you are me. You are more emotional than me, but you don't know how to be soft with words. You ask the hard questions because it's easier than making small talk and you get right to the point. You're honest even when it's hard to hear. You're perfectly comfortable being by yourself, because you won't compromise what you want for what others want to do. You stand firm, there isn't a gray area with you, you get that from me. You are very matter of fact.  You are a younger and cuter version of me.

As I thought through the other night, I saw my side. I saw the frustrated mom that nobody wants to listen to unless she is seriously yelling to get someone's attention. I see the mom that is frustrated because the kids will listen to dad, but not mom when she says the exact same thing. I see the frustrated mom that sometimes can't make your tears go away when you don't know why you're crying.

Then I thought through your side and I see why your words are true to you. Mommy seems like she's screaming at me when she yells. When she yells, she must be mad at me. When it's 10:00 p.m. mommy really does need to brush her teeth. I see why you feel those things and I hate that I'm the one that validates those feelings.

It's not always that I have to yell. It's not always that my frustrations are high, but I get that when you're five and tired, that those feelings can rise to the top. That doesn't justify my short-comings or minimize your feelings, it simply states them in that moment very clearly.

But know this baby girl: you are mine. I will love you fiercely until my very last breath. I will spend every day loving you with every fiber of my being even when you're stretching me beyond where I thought I could go. You are me and I am you, and because we don't know any other way, we'll push hard through it all and love even harder.  We'll whisper a secret, we'll hug it out, and we'll always be there for each other. You've got my heart kid. You've got it all.

Cookie Cutter Kids

I remember back in my no child and single child days and my thoughts of "if I ever have a child they'll never act like that" or better yet, "my child will never do...."  Ahh, the blissful ignorance of no children or having a single well behaved child (or as I like to call them, trick children...you know the ones that make you think you've got this parenting thing down).

Now I have four. Four children that do not all act the same. Four children who on any given day can all be in sync or all out of sync. Four that may have it all together or be a hot freaking mess with no in between. I laugh at how silly I was with those thoughts from the early years!  Having four children, makes you more aware of the judgment that people have. It goes beyond the "you've got your hands full" comments. It's the looks of judgment when one (or more) act up. Guess what pal? I'm not raising cookie cutter kids, and I don't need your approval.

I'll be the first to admit that my kids are far from perfect, though in many ways I think they can be pretty close. They have their days where they can "please" and "thank you" and be the best behaved things you've ever seen. Those days are glorious for me as a mom. Realistically though, those days aren't every day, heck sometimes they are few and far between. Not because they haven't been taught those things. Not because we as their parents don't expect those things, but because they're kids and I'm raising Wildflowers.

So on the days when they are great, I'm grateful. Other days, you may see me sitting outside a dance class because one doesn't want to go back without me. So she sits with me as her sisters go. Then on the way home, she cries the entire time because she missed class. There are days when the back talk is real and friends don't get to come over and play.  There are days that they chant through the supermarket because they want some junk food that I wouldn't get. Then there are days that I give in because frankly I'm worn out and it's just easier.  Not always my proudest mom moments, but survival happens. It's these days that I pick up on the looks and comments more. As if you see something that I don't already see and know. Yep, my kid is acting up. Yep, that's not the socially acceptable norm. Yep, good for you and your judgment. Seriously, buddy I'm not an idiot. But you know what, you don't live my life. You have no idea how their day or my day has been, so you could probably chose to be a lifter and speak life instead of the jerk that you're being. The looks and comments aren't helpful in case you didn't know. And news flash, they're human, they have bad days, I have bad days; they aren't cookie cutters that we plopped out of box and all behave exactly as designed.

I see it in a way that you don't. In a way, I feel bad for you and that you don't have the pleasure of trying to manage four unique and beautiful personalities. I see the bond and the accountability that comes from missing out on something because someone couldn't tow the line of expectation so everyone missed out. I hate that you can't see the beauty of us letting them learn for themselves and learn from their mistakes. It's our job to mold these souls into people that can succeed on their own, love with their whole being, fight for what they believe in, be proud while being humble, can pick themselves up when they fall, and work hard for it all. Sometimes in order to get there, they learn the hard lessons, they cry in public, they throw a fit and miss out, they get a reward that you may deem unjust, but see, it's not up to you, it's up to me. So keep your looks of judgment and your underhanded comments that you think I'm too stupid to pickup on to yourself; these girls are doing just fine and they'll succeed with or without your approval.