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.  

A Pair of Cleats

I went to a weekend women’s retreat for the first time in eight years. I left my children with tears in their eyes. It was a hard parting. The eight year old stood stoic on the lawn as I pulled out of the driveway. The three year old saluted grimly. The six year old buried his face on Daddy’s shoulder. me. alone. It was only for two days. They would be with Daddy. I knew they would be safe. They would be at home. They would be fed and clothed (after a fashion, anyway.) It would be ok. But I am mommy. The kisser of boo-boos. The pourer of milk. The dinner maker. The teachable-moment-catcher. The toilet paper roll-changer. The tucker-inner. The nose wiper. The bad dream stopper. The multitaski

 

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