motherhood – Apostolic Momma

What Kind of Mom…

What kind of mom sometimes gives up on making dinner because her kids snack too much beforehand then never eat it anyway?

What kind of mom buys her kids treats at the grocery store even though they misbehaved so she doesn’t have to endure the meltdown if she says no?

What kind of mom sets limits on screen time then ignores it because she is finally able to take a bath in peace?

What kind of mom buys her kids clothes and toys then complains when they are strewn all over the living room?

What kind of mom makes the kids go outside and play so she can clean the house but ends up scrolling through social media?

What kind of mom takes her kids to the park but only stays for thirty minutes because she’s too doggone cold?

What kind of mom tries so hard to be perfect and cries because she knows she’ll never get there?

What kind of mom has overwhelming fears that she may be ruining her kids?

A good mom. A normal mom. A mom like me. I have done every single one of these things at some point. I know you have heard it before, but I’ll say it again: “The fact that you worry if you’re a good mom is proof that you are one.” Why? A bad mom wouldn’t care one way or the other.

Motherhood is hard. We are accountable for raising moral, responsible, well-mannered adults, and it’s a twenty-four-hour job. It’s even more difficult if you’re doing it alone, like me. I constantly feel like I’m failing. But when I tuck them into bed every night to hugs and kisses and “I love you mom”- I know I must be doing something right.

As long as the good outweighs the bad and the happy outweighs the sad, they will grow up and be glad… they have a great mom. A mom like you.

All Ye Heavy Laden

I don’t want to complain tonight, but can I be real? I’m tired. I will be 41 in nine days. I have been at this motherhood thing for twenty-two years, and I still have eleven to go until my youngest is 18. That’s thirty-three years, y’all. Thirty-three years of cleaning up after little people, breaking up arguments, fixing broken toys, birthday parties, tantrums (oh yes, I am still dealing with that…)

Borrowed Children

It’s a bright, sunny day here in the Pacific Northwest, and I have an hour before I have to pick up my kids from school. I promised myself that I would clean my perpetually messy house during this hour of solitude. But God had other plans.

The Beauty of Tomorrow

person in hoodie looking at a starry sky

I had a very productive day today. I washed, dried, folded, and put away four loads of laundry. (I know, right?) I also washed the dishes- which I must admit is not a daily thing in my house, sadly.

After my cleaning spree, the kids and I ran five errands which included trips to Walmart and Winco. After unloading and putting away the groceries, I cooked a very simple dinner for the kids and took a bath.

Seek Ye First

a blur of people rushing across a busy, city street

I think I have finally figured out what my problem is: I’m addicted to self-improvement.

I don’t know when it first started, but I think it was probably about seven years ago after I had my fourth child. I hardly liked anything about myself. I didn’t like my body, I didn’t feel like I was a good enough mom or wife, I yelled too much, etc.