Welcome to the place of overflowing grace in the midst of messy motherhood.
There are a lot of kids up in here, a lot of noise, and a lot of life. It's raw and real, and often sticky.
But I wouldn't trade it. (Except maybe the sticky part.)
Join me for the journey.  

Afoot and Underfoot

Call me crazy (maybe).  I’m starting our homeschool year this week. I’m aware it is still technically summer, but if you can have Christmas in July, could there be a rule that says you can’t start school then?  (That’s rhetorical.  No.  There’s no rule.  Welcome to homeschooling.) The baby is coming in several weeks.  The house is for sale, which means we could possibly have to pack and move in the months ahead.  The mother is realizing the impossible amount of one-on-one time that each child will require during the school session alone.  Nursing newborn.  Handicapped, curious toddler.  Energetic young kindergartener.  Kinesthetic, hands-on first grader.  Loquacious, social second grader.  I

Letter to My Unborn Son

Dear Child, I haven’t met you.  I don’t know you (though your roundhouse kicks to my ribs hint at strength and stubbornness ahead).  But I love you already and can’t wait to meet you next month. I want the best for you.  Unfortunately, I am completely inadequate to be your mother.  Even if I pour my life into parenting you, I will fall short.  Already I do.  (Sorry about those doughnuts.  They gave us both a sugar crash later.)  Just ask your brothers in a few years, when they’re teenagers and you learn how to talk, they’ll tell you.  I will fail you. I will get mad when isn’t your fault. I will be too busy when you really just need me to listen. I will be too lenient when you’re testing rul


©2020 by My Sink Runneth Over.