Love

I hope all the mothers in my life had an amazing Mother's Day.

My day went something like this: I was greeted with a triple-grande decaf whole-milk four-pump caramel macchiato and freshly picked dandelions. Sean and the kids made gluten-free pancakes and scrambled eggs for breakfast. After church, Piersen had a nap from which he woke covered in puke. And he was in our bed. Yes --- lovely. Sean and Kaylee ran some errands and came home with yet another Starbucks (that actually was quite lovely...2 starbucks' in one day). And Piersen woke up around midnight, once again covered in puke.

Being a mother is hard. It's hard and lovely and fulfilling and heartbreaking and joyous and gut-wrenching and exhilarating and annoying and trying and wonderful and overwhelmingly amazing. And there is nothing in this world that I would rather be. To be honest, there are days when I just want to run away. Days when I wish that I could just have a few hours without someone screaming "mooooommmeeeeeeee". Days when the laundry and the toys and the dishes and the schooling and the attitudes are downright oppressive. Days when I wonder what God was thinking entrusting these amazing little creatures to stupid, bumbling me. But those days are the exception, not the rule. There will always be days like that. There will always be moments you wish you could take back or do over again. And that's okay. For all those crappy days, there are a thousand great days to make up for them. I love my children with a fierceness that only a mother can understand. And I love being their mama. And if I teach them nothing else, I hope they grow up knowing they are loved beyond measure.

See that little face up there peeking over her Daddy's shoulder? I'm her mama.