A Mother's Day Series: Part 4

All women are not necessarily mothers but all women have certainly been mothered in some capacity.  I have met some women that are longing to be mothers, some who have no desire to ever mother, some who are heart-broken because they are not mothers, and some that are in the thick of mothering.

Without a doubt, being a mother is one of the greatest tasks I have ever been given.  I am proud of my accomplishments but I am not nearly as proud of them as I am of my love story with my husband and our daughter, Zoey.  My daughter is 21 months old and I beam with pride when I speak of her.  Being her mother will forever be one of my life’s greatest joys.  I love that I get to love her.

Before becoming a mother, I was warned of the baby-moon cloud that I would live on for the first few days, weeks, months even.  Those early days where you are high off of a billion hormones, completely content to gaze at a slumbering infant, proud as a peacock, dog tired, and totally in love.  Sometimes, even now, I still get that feeling which makes me wonder if baby-moon is really just a made up word for something that is beating in every mother’s heart.  A dizzy-head over heals-completely at a loss for words-high as a kite type love that spurs you on to love and nurture the children you have been given until kingdom come.

Before becoming a mother, I knew there would be hard days.  The 3^rd straight going on forever shower-less days, spoons hurled in your face days, toddler kicks to the gut days, scraping oatmeal off the ceiling days, boycotted naps days, and I-think-my-kid-just-popped-a-blood-vessel-in-their-face-because-they-were-screaming-too-hard days.  And while these things may seem petty and small, sometimes petty and small things can be really hard to deal with.    

 

My own Mom has been my example and greatest inspiration in motherhood and I am grateful.  She has taught me how to be gentle and how to be firm.  She has taught me how to mother creatively.  She has taught me how to be courageous and let go, even when it is painful.  She has taught me generosity of heart.  

I am so glad to be the daughter of my mother and I am so glad to be the mother of my daughter.

Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers out there.  If you are in the trenches, may you find the strength to press on.  I am cheering from here.  Mothering is not for the faint of heart but it is good.  So good.  Remarkably good.  

A Mother's Day Series: Part 3

Today, I have the great privilege of introducing one of my dearest friends to you.  I must admit, when I asked Marney if she would be willing to write a piece for my blog, I was truly hoping that she would say yes.  You know those people that just have an incredible way with words?  Marney is deep and genuine to the core, and that is reflected in her writing.  She has been an encouraging voice in my life and a true friend.  Her words are solid and weighty and will cheer you on, I guarantee it.  

Love Begets Love: Why I Bother to Mother

By: Marney Elzen-Hoskyn

I am mothering two bright and beautiful little boys; one 4 years and the other 8 months old.  They are our (my husband’s and my) unabashed pride and joy, the very delight of our existence.  We eat their bellies, nibble their necks, sniff their heads, kiss their cheeks, tickle their toes and hold their hands every chance we get.  It’s still not enough.  We talk about them when they are awake and miss them when they are asleep.  We wipe their noses, bums and tears.  We laugh and cry and cry and laugh.  We worry, we plan, we make it up on the fly, we forgive ourselves and we high five.  We get annoyed.  We get tired.  Mercy, do we get tired. 

18 months ago my husband was brought to the brink of death and back again.  We have always loved each other with deep gratitude but the journey through this valley changed us.  Welcoming our littlest one was extraordinary and our hearts swell to bursting with each passing day.  We know these are treasured times. 

As a mother I have developed keen senses.  I live with eyes wide open to the wonder of little fingers learning new tasks, ears quick to hear of a fresh discovery or new word and hands ready to reach out and steady unsure steps.  I won’t describe what I have smelled but it’s a mothering milestone to lift a diaper bum to your nose and conduct an investigative sniff. 

My heart has grown big and full and tender to a fault.  The deep well of love, the sacred awareness of the gift these children are can render me a teary mystic in an instant. 

So I attempt to perch on the precipice of the present where this trinity of motherhood unite: being awake to the moments of my children’s lives, mindful of the daily do-over tasks that build a home and grateful for the abundant blessing it is to nurture and love our boys.

In all bustle of life, I often call my mom.  She always picks up the phone. In fact, she’s always there (often literally as she lives only 7 minutes down the road). This foundation of always there-ness helps to hold my feet steady in a world that pulls mothers in a million different directions.  When I feel inadequate, insecure, guilty, unfit, incapable, uncertain, and like I’m earning a failing grade I look at the firm ground beneath me and I straighten up.  I am here and so far as it is within my ability, I will always be here for my sons.  It is easy to love well since I have been well loved.

My hope and prayer as a mother is that my intentional presence will lay a foundation for my children so they can be the kindness, gratitude and love our world so desperately needs.  My reality is that they have made me and remade me a million times over and I am without words to describe the joy, love and thanks that fill me as I think of them asleep in their beds.  May both always be true.   

3 Little Monkeys Jumpin' on the Bed

What began as 3 monkey cousins jumping on the bed turned into 4 cousins, just over 24 hours later.  I have been sparse around here as my family welcomed a new nephew/son/grandson into our lives.  We are so thrilled and maybe a little bit pooped.  I was so glad to help my sister's family with the care of her kiddos.  There have been a lot of laughs, some napping sprinkled along the way, 2 toddlers learning to share, a 4 year old telling me that her new baby brother looks like a teeny tiny mouse, and a whole lot of joy.

Glad to be back!  Enjoy the rest of your weekend, friends!

 

A Mother's Day Series: Part 2

Today, I have the privilege of introducing you to a gal that is my sister-in-law and also my friend.  Jileane continually inspires me with the diligent and persistent way she pours herself into the creative process.  She is a hardworking, passionate, and gifted artist, through and through.  She is in a band with my brother and they make great music together that you should most definitely check out.  She is also a published author and if you would like to read some of her work, or order her book, be sure to go here. 

Sprawled across the top of the blankets, I don’t recall the four of us ever actually speaking.  In my memory, the lazy inward flow of the warm sunlight was joined either by the uncontrollable giggles of the four bodies who were just too thrilled to sleep or the deep napping breaths of we three sisters soothed to slumber by the comfort of our mother’s body next to us.  I’m sure there had to be words exchanged at some point, but these memories are feelings, not moments.  Despite the blatant use of a cliché, I know that we spoke of everything and nothing.  We dreamed in the afternoon light, watching dust dance through the beams breaking through the blinds.  Our limbs were a mess of intertwined thoughts and feelings.  We could have stayed there forever.  The worst part was when the phone would ring, because Mum going to answer it meant that the lazy day was over. 

For a child, bedtime is the time of day when the toys get put away and you have to brush your teeth.  Obviously bedtime sucks.  The best nights were when Mum would sing us to sleep.  She would tuck us in, turn out the lights, and say goodnight, slowly easing the door shut behind her while we waited with baited breath for the singing to start.  We never knew for sure if it actually would.  All in an instant, she would burst back through the door shouting, “Goooooooodniiiiight!”  We would immediately erupt into giggles.  “Goodnight, goodnight, my love, goodnight!”  The song is actually called “Goodbye,” but we didn’t know that and we didn’t care.  Next would come the only verse of the song she actually remembered.  She has ruined us for this song.  To this day, I only know it by the (wrong) lyrics she sang and by the lyrics she omitted because she didn’t know them.  That song will forever, in my mind, consist of one verse of words followed by one verse of a series of ‘la-la’s. 

In eleventh grade Biology class, my teacher threatened to kick me out of the course.  Not the class that day, the course forever.  I told Mum the events of the class that had lead to this threat.  I want to specify that, regardless of my grades, my school history, or what all had transpired to come to this, Mum’s response would have been the same: “Do you want me to go to the school and speak to this teacher and raise some hell?!”  She was irate for my sake.  I could have been failing Biology, or I could have been an honours student.  I could have skipped every other class, or I could have had flawless attendance.  None of that mattered in Mum’s mind.  She was prepared to kick some serious butt to bring justice on behalf of her daughter.  I had to beg her not to go to the school to speak to him. 

My mum instilled in her daughters the notion that we don’t just do what we have to in order to finance doing what we love, but we should outright do what we love and make it work. 

My mum chose to take our word as truth, even if she knew we were lying to her face.  She wanted us to know that she trusted us, even if we didn’t deserve that trust. 

My mum has struggled with and fought for all of her children, sometimes at the same time. 

My mum is the strongest woman I know. 

My mum is one of my favourite people on the planet.  I love her because she’s my mother, but I like her because she’s my friend. 

I don’t know what it is to be an amazing mother, but I know what it is to be the daughter of one. 

A Mother's Day Series: Part 1

I am thrilled to introduce one of my best friends to you.  Carla and I met during our Bible College days and we have stayed friends through the thick and thin.  It has been a privilege and blessing to have Carla's voice and friendship in my life.  The way she mothers her daughters is inspiring and tenacious and beautiful.

In thinking on how exactly to write on this topic, it was a little tempting to come up with something like other thoughts on motherhood I've read before. Those things we all experience as new parents; sleeplessness, runny kid noses, dirty diapers, tantrums at the grocery store (generally the child, although perhaps occasionally the parent), living way too many hours in sweatpants, etc. Yet, we all say, there is nothing better in the whole world!

As much as that is true, motherhood for me tapped into a whole different level of life and mental and emotional soul-depth than I ever imagined existed, pre-motherhood. What does it mean to me? Three words have been the most meaningful.

Courage. Courage to trust my body to give birth on its own, and to push life into the world. To do it more than once. Courage to love without always getting loved right back. Courage to dig deep into my soul and let go of hard things so that those hard things would not stay in our family and twist their destructive selves around the hearts of my children. Courage to do the right thing, even if its the hardest thing. 

Presentness. Motherhood has taught me to slow down. To enjoy the moment. To enjoy the twinkles in my daughter's eyes as she tells me a story, rather than just the story itself. To let my first answer be "yes" when asked, "Mommy, do you want to do _______ with me?" rather than thinking of reasons why I need to accomplish my task first. To enjoy cuddles with a wide eyed, yet peaceful little snuggler who got up in the night, rather than thinking about how much sleep I'm missing. To have tea parties, make outlandish yet exhilarating crafts thought up by a child on the spur of the moment, and drop everything and dance with my little people to the goofy song that just happens to come on. To listen to the same song twelve times over, and relish the enjoyment that results each time. (That would be the Mickey Mouse clubhouse theme song which some other kind-hearted parent of the world put on YouTube several times in a row just for children like mine.) Enjoying the moment, one moment at a time. 

Trust. To believe that motherhood is hard. That I cannot do it on my own. I cannot protect my children from every hard person and every hard circumstance. I cannot make choices for my children. I cannot teach them all that is good without them also picking up on my own bad habits. I've learned to rely on a trust that God, the Creator of parents and children and families alike, is the sole bearer of all wisdom and knowledge. Without constantly going to Him to inform my parenting, I can easily fall into wrong choices and wrong attitudes. Oh, so easily. 

Motherhood has taught me the power of letting go, and of letting God use motherhood to stretch me into someone a little stronger and deeper and wiser. Someone more ready to face hard things with courage. Someone ready to be present. Ready to leave the long term results of my motherly efforts in Someone Else's hands. Someone Else who is the best and wisest parent of all. 

Carla is a mom blessed with two daughters, ages 3 and 1. As well as growing in mind and spirit, she also has a growing belly with a new little son on the way. She is married to a fantastic husband, loves teaching her piano students, writing songs in her oh-so-(not so)-plentiful spare time, and preparing music for her church family's services.

A Mother's Day Series

I know the weekends are like, boooooooring in blog-land.  Heck, most weekends you get nothing but static from my corner of the interweb.  Weekends are the days that you get stuff DONE and hang out with your family and relish in sleep-ins and coffee-brunch overload and maybe catch your breath.  Well, with Mother's Day coming up I wanted to do something a little different.  Each Sunday prior, I will be featuring a post from some amazing people that are also my friends!  Some are mothers and some are daughters and some are both.  They are beautiful people with beautiful stories to tell.  Tomorrow one of my dearest friends in the world will be kicking things off.

So, y'all come back, ya hear?

20 Months

Here she is!  My daughter is currently 20 months of goofiness, glee, spunk, and sweet LIFE!  At the beginning of this winter she was drowning in that cute grey pea-coat and now she has to grunt a little bit to get both of her arms in it.  Zoey, she is all kinds of adorable and crazy these days.

At 20 Months Zoey:
*has locks of beautiful hair that are the longest they have ever been and the lightest color they have ever been.  Anyone remember that raven head of hair she was born with?  In certain lights, it has a strawberry tint to it that is just so pretty.  I am a little bit tempted to cut it but I have this picture of her with a top-knot bun on the top of her head and I think that would just blow my mama-brains with the cuteness of it all.
*has eyes like her daddy's.  They were blue to begin with, turned green similar to mine, and now they are looking like they are heading towards a hazel.  They are bright and deep and glistening.
*continues to love being outside.  She often asks to "go outside!  Play!" or "Walk!"  Sometimes we linger so long outdoors that she falls asleep in her stroller.  There is nothing like fresh air to tire a kid out.  Now that we have had milder days, we have ventured out to the library, the off-leash dog park (picture Zoey running around yelling "PUPPY!!!"), the mountains, and even some of our local running trails.
*is saying many, many, many words.  I can hardly keep up with it.  Her most recent additions have been: 6-8-9 (yes, no 7 yet), yo-yo (yogurt), moony (smoothie), baby-sleep-shhhh, frog (which most of the time sounds like a really bad word), bok-bok (chicken), night-night, carrot, PJs, apple, berries, cheerios, fishies, socks, boots, let's go!, stuck!, potty, sun, moon, trees, flowers, french fries, blocks, milk, cheese, tomato, jumpa (jump), OW, ouCH!  Today, after a particularly intense post-supper melt-down I started to run her bath to get her ready for bed.  After plopping her in the tub I said quietly, "Yes, we need to calm down" and without hesitating she proclaimed, "Calm down!"  And for those who are fans of the TV show, Community she can also say, "Pop!  Pop!"  Every once in awhile she will also make dub-step noises on command.  It is pretty spectacular. Her constant toddler narrative in response to everything that goes on around her is just the dearest thing.  Her first words of the day which most mornings I can hear from my perch while I sip my first coffee are sometimes hysterical.  "ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC!" was one morning's treat.  Other times I just hear, "jumpa, jumpa, JUMPA!"  It is always great to wake up with a chipper bird.
*has tried out the potty a couple times but we aren't getting intense about it just yet.  The daily kicks to the face and screaming that comes along with diaper changes is getting a little bit much so we're trying out some new things from time to time.

Zoey your smile just brightens up a room and your tears (that you can at times turn on in an instant.... hmmmmm) tug at this mama's heart strings, even when you are being a downright turkey.  We love you, we love you, we love you!