A Dad's Love

If my daughter learns anything from our house, I hope she sees how well her Dad loves.

I hope she finds a man that drops everything when his family needs him, just like her Dad does.

I want her to find a man that encourages her but also keeps her grounded, just like her Dad does.

I pray she finds a man that does his best under the circumstance to provide for his family, just like her Dad does.

I want her to find a man willing to listen, just like her Dad does.

I pray she gets to be with the kind of man that naps with a sick baby so mom can get some rest, just like her Dad does.

Looks come and go. Teenage attributes that all the young girls love eventually fade away. Priorities change. Popularity doesn’t mean anything when you’re 30.

One of the best things any girl can do is find a boy that loves like her Dad does.

This post originally appeared on Facebook.

The Two Year Age Gap

Let’s talk about that 2 year age gap for a minute.

I really thought it was a good idea.

Some days are sunshine & rainbows & best friends. They play & laugh & snuggle & I feel like I’m raising good little people.

Other days it’s total insanity. The older one can barely process emotion and the younger is a complete tornado with no understanding of personal space or safety.

I honestly don’t remember much about bringing my second home. I was in a constant state of exhaustion, trying to potty train a new 2 year old while figuring out a brand new baby.

There were plenty of times where everyone was crying. Even the dog wanted out of there most days.

Now I can function (for the most part) but tackling any sort of public outing with both of them makes me need a three hour nap. There’s always a meltdown from at least one of them. Whining galore. 4 & 2 are ages of testing boundaries, learning how the world works, and making mama hella tired 😵‍💫

I love them. I love the crazy. I love the exhaustion (ok not really, but you get the point). I don’t love keeping the youngest from jumping off the top of a slide while trying to explain how God works and why the sky is blue to the older one. But it’s all part of it.

One day they’ll be 18 & 20. I pray they’ll be close enough in age to continue through life together, always pals, even long after I’m gone.

That 2 year age gap gets the best of me & the worst of me but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

This post originally appeared on Facebook.

Some days just don't go as planned

Some days just don’t go as planned.

Nothing goes right. Everyone cries. No one listens. Mom gets aggravated. Someone refuses to eat and then begs for snack later. The kids bicker and fight and don’t share. They wouldn’t listen to you if their lives depended on it (even though it usually does - see this parking lot? ).

Some days just suck.

The kids are learning. Every day they learn more about boundaries, rules, safety, kindness, what to do, and what not to do. Every day is an experience for them.

And Mama, you’re learning too. We learn every day. We learn what works and what doesn’t in meltdown mode. We learn how to make ourselves heard in the best ways. We learn when it’s time to leave something fun because the kids have lost it. We learn how best to communicate with our very different children.

You don’t have bad kids. You aren’t a bad mom. Don’t let anyone tell you either of those things. (And if they do, you don’t need that in your life. #bye )

If today was a bad day, everyone gets to try again tomorrow.

Every day is different. Tomorrow can be better.

We’re all learning. Remember that.

This post was originally published on Facebook.

Sometimes I forget I prayed for this

Sometimes I forget I prayed for this.

The husband, the home, the kids— this entire chaotic season of life.

I forget it when the days are long and all I’m doing is counting down until bedtime. When we’re on meltdown 27 of the day. When I’m so touched out and on sensory overload that I think my head might pop off. When Dad is out of town and I’m running this ship solo.

When all I really want is a break, I forget I prayed for all of this. The good, the great, the bad, and the ugly.

I’m really grateful the Lord answers prayers. Even on the hard days.

This piece was originally published on Facebook & has since appeared on The Faithful Woman.

I Want My Kids To Grow Up And Move Away From Home (At Least For A Little Bit)

I want my kids to grow up and move away from home. At least for a little bit. And not just away from the family home they’ve been raised in, but also away from the hometown they know.

I chose to stay at home and commute to the local college for my freshman year, and although I had a bit more freedom with my newfound adulthood, I still lived under my parent’s roof and followed their rules. I got married at the end of my freshman year and after a week-long honeymoon, we packed a U-haul to the brim and left the Florida Panhandle for North Carolina.mo

I was terrified.

For one, I had no idea how to be a wife (but that’s a blog for another day). And two, I had never lived anywhere other than my tiny, one stoplight town. I come from the kind of place where everyone knows everyone’s name, and their grandma’s, and what street you live on. I grew up in a special place full of family and community. I was loved, safe, and secure in my surroundings. I never wanted to leave, but the boy I loved (and still love) did and wanted to follow a job opportunity, so we hit the road.

I want to say I never looked back, but I did.

I cried the first hour of the road trip, completely sad to leave everything familiar and all the people I loved. I was scared to embark on a new adventure. What if we failed? What if we couldn’t pay our bills? How would I make friends? I’d had the same ones for over half my life. I wondered if I even had the capability to create a new community for myself in a place I had literally never been to before. 

I want to say I adjusted well and quickly, but I didn’t. I wallowed in self-pity for a while. I felt overwhelmed by the new, big, city I was in. I had no idea where the grocery store was, I couldn’t recognize a gas station, and I surely had no idea what parts of town were “good” or “bad.” The job opportunity my husband had there only lasted a few months, a summer gig for a college kid, and then we were back home to the familiar people we know and love.

Leaving everything I called home for the first time changed the trajectory of my entire life.

Finish reading this piece at Knoxville Moms.