Dear Son, I Hope You Grow Up To Love Like Your Daddy Does

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

I married your dad at 19 because of the person he was then. He saw me and took me as I was, and I thought there was no way I would ever love him more than I did then. I’m here to tell you, I was very mistaken. Watching him navigate life over the past eight years has shown me he is a better person than I could’ve drawn up for myself.

When you came along in your 8-pound, 6-ounce glory, kicking and screaming, the very first thing I thought was that you looked just like your dad. You still do in all of your toddler glory, and much to my amusement I have watched you love like he does, too. I hope that never ever changes.

I hope you never question reaching out to help someone even if there are others who tell you not to.

I pray you bust your butt to get home to your family for dinner like your daddy does.

I don’t want you to stay up all hours of the night worrying about how to provide for your family, but I hope you follow your dad’s example in always putting your family first. Even if your wife sometimes questions you. (Sorry, honey. Love you!)

I want you to go out of your way to be there for your extended family, but I want you to do it because you want to and not because you carry the weight of familial obligation. 

I hope you see the value in education and strive to always learn more.

I pray you support your wife and push her forward when she needs it.

I hope you always choose to see the best in people. Your dad is good at that.

I hope you are always the first one to say sorry. Your dad always is. Even if he’s not the one who’s wrong, but he doesn’t let people run him over. I’m not sure how, but somehow it makes him stronger. I want that for you.

I pray you lead with your head instead of your heart. Don’t get me wrong, your heart can pull you in the right direction sometimes, but more often than not you need logic. I’m not good at that, but your dad is the best. 

I want you to be headstrong like he is. Sure of yourself in all things, but not afraid to say you are wrong if you ever are. I’m not good at being the bigger person (truly, I’m the worst) but your dad sure is.

I hope you see other people’s insecurities and never bring attention to them. I want you to handle them with care.

I hope more than anything you grow up and love like your daddy. I pray you take the best pieces of him and magnify them even more. I don’t think these things will be hard for you. 

I already see you emulating the characteristics that are laid out before you each day. I know if you hang on to these examples, you will grow into a man who loves better than most anyone I know. You have the best teacher.

I Never Thought I Could Love My Husband More Than the Day I Married Him, But I Do

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

I married my high school sweetheart at 19. White dress, big southern wedding—the whole shebang. We met in middle school. We went to college together. We now have two lovely little kiddos we get to call our own. We go to church on Sundays and do our best to pray together. Fairytale kind of stuff, right? 

We have also moved half a dozen times in the almost five years we have been married. Moving brings out the worst in me so I feel it needs to be mentioned. We have argued more times than I can ever count, granted the majority of them haven’t been over very important things. Nothing is worse than pointless arguing—let me tell you. I have said words in the heat of the moment I later regret.

Our relationship doesn’t look like it did almost eight years ago when we first started dating. And you know what?

I love where we are now even more than where we were back then.

The butterflies are gone, but the steadfast security of love and a promise keeps us grounded and together. 

I won’t lie though—my insides do a little happy dance when he comes in the door from work.

The grand gestures (I’m looking at you, promposals) are few and far between, and honestly, so is date night for the most part, but I’m perfectly OK with that. Now when he brings home flowers, I almost immediately ask him what he wants. We both get a good laugh out of it.

The best things to me now are my husband putting the kids to bed when I need a break, him getting up with the baby at night so I can get some much-needed sleep, or him cleaning the kitchen after I’ve had a long day. It’s laughing together over stupid mistakes and dreaming together about our future.

Our romance is much different than it was eight years ago, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

We’ve seen each other at our absolute lows and been there to experience each other’s highest highs. My husband knows me better than I know myself most days. I’m so very grateful for that.

We have lived on ham sandwiches and ramen for weeks in college, spent Sundays counting quarters at the coin laundromat, and stayed up way too late quizzing each other for all of those finals.

We’ve now also been there for each other as we tried to navigate finding healthcare, buying a house, and having a son in the NICU. It’s hard to keep the butterfly feelings alive in the most stressful moments of life. That doesn’t mean you love your spouse less, it just means together, you have more to focus on than just each other at that point in time.

My husband has been there to help me birth two babies. He has been there to support me from the moment the pregnancy test turned positive. He has nudged me forward when I thought I couldn’t take another step. He has pushed me to follow dreams I never thought would come to fruition. He is my biggest supporter and strongest advocate. He’s also absolutely not afraid to call me out anymore when I need to be brought back down to earth. I need this, too, and he knows that. 

I never thought I could love my husband more than the day I married him, but here I am doing just that.

Watching him fold laundry or eating takeout at home after the kids are asleep makes me happier now than anything did in our high school dating days. Seventeen-year-old me would scoff at the thought, I’m sure. 

The fairytale, butterfly feelings don’t last forever. It’s great while they do, don’t get me wrong. I will truly never forget how I felt on our wedding day, but I’m glad the fairytale ends.

I like where we are now even better.

The butterfly feelings at the beginning of a relationship can, and will, expand in ways you never thought possible if you let them.

The fairytale feelings have evolved into something much greater than teenage me could have ever dreamed. They will always be part of our story, no doubt about it. I can reminisce on the early days at any time, but I wouldn’t trade where we are now for the world.

I'm Too Exhausted To Pray

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

I can’t remember the last time I prayed.

I feel incredibly guilty saying that. But, it has become my reality lately. It’s not something I’m proud of and, surprisingly, my lack of praying isn’t due to a faith crisis. I’m not struggling with doctrine, scripture, philosophy, or my church. 

I’m simply exhausted.

I have a constantly sick toddler who is also in the midst of potty training (seriously, I should be praying, ya feel me?) and a newborn, I haven’t been to church in what feels like months. My faith is still strong, I know who my Father in Heaven is and I know what Jesus means to me. 

I feel like I should be doing better.

My kids need a good example and as a mom, I know it is my duty to teach my children the ways of the Lord. But, it’s hard sometimes. Honestly, it’s hard almost all the time. 

At the end of most days, I want to just crash into bed as soon as the kids are down for the night. I know I’ll just have to get up again in a couple of hours. And then again a couple of hours after that to tend to one, or both, of my kids. Wash, rinse, and repeat every night what feels like a thousand times. I’m hoping the trek up and down the stairs stops before they move out.

I love my kids with all my heart, but they are the source of my exhaustion most days. Don’t get me wrong—I wouldn’t change it for anything in the whole wide world. But, it is a fact. Kids are tiring. 

They wear you out mentally and physically, and lately, I’ve let that exhaustion carry over spiritually.

I know I am not alone in this.

I can’t remember the last time I really, actually, truly prayed. I mean, down on my knees with a clear head and heart, pouring my soul out to Heaven. I’ve said plenty of silent prayers throughout my busy days, albeit mostly half-hearted. I’ve started plenty of prayers lying down in bed at night, but never finished them because I’ve fallen asleep before I can say amen.

I’m here to tell you those prayers, even though you may think they may not be right, are not wasted. They are valid and heard. I have seen the truth of this in my life.

Jesus meets us where we are.

If we try even the smallest prayer, I know without a doubt it is heard in Heaven. Even our most measly attempts are met with grace and understanding.

Exhaustion is part of motherhood’s job description. Heaven knows that. Being a mom is a high and holy calling. Keep trying. Keep saying those silent, and even unfinished, prayers throughout all your days. Let Heaven be on your heart. Extend the same grace to yourself that you extend toward your children and that our Father in Heaven always extends to us.

Dear Husband, Thank You For Being a Man Who Steps Up

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

Thank you for always showing up, even after your long, hard day at work. Thank you for coming in the door happy to see all of us—the crazy toddler still in pajamas, disastrous house, insane dog, and me covered in baby bodily fluids with my hair in complete disarray. 

Thank you for not complaining when dinner hasn’t been made and when there are zero plans for it. You normally step up and cook for all of us, and for that I am grateful.

Thank you for staying up with the baby at night so I can have an extra couple of hours of sleep.

Going to bed early is my love language and I am so happy you know that. 

Thank you for doing the laundry, and better yet, the dishes you know I hate to wash. Thank you for taking the rowdy toddler out of the house for the sake of my sanity.

Thank you for asking me how I am doing, both mentally and physically, and truly listening to the answers and for making an effort to help me if I’m struggling.

Thank you for being levelheaded and logical when I am insensible. Even though in the moment I’m sure I’m mad at you for being this way.

Thank you for loving me at my worst and at my best.

Thank you for pushing me to chase after dreams I think are too far-fetched.

You are my confidant, supporter, partner in all things, and absolute best friend.

Thank you for having and extending the grace and patience with our children that I very much lack by the end of the week.

Thank you for holding it all together, day after day, for everyone in this family.

You are our great example, Daddy. We love you.

Husbands Don't Get Enough Credit

Husbands don’t get enough credit.

Mine doesn’t at least and that’s mostly my fault because I should tell him thank you more often.

Being a mom is hard, don’t get me wrong. The mental load is enough to do me in most days and don’t get me started on being the family taxi driver. But husbands don’t get enough credit.

We do different things for our family, but at the end of the day I couldn’t do what I do without him by my side. He’s the calm to my chaos, the voice of reason to my worry, the “maybe you shouldn’t” to my impulse, and the one to call me out when I need it.

My husband doesn’t get enough credit.

For the hours he works or for the load he carries for our family. Worry, stress, and responsibilities weigh heavy on him too and I often forget that. Most of the time the parenting struggles fall on mom, but dads carry them too.

So, here’s to the husbands that do it all and never complain. Thanks for holding our family together.

You deserve more credit.

This post originally appeared on Facebook.