A real Mother’s Day.

Little hugs | In Honor of Design

This weekend May in the south skipped right to summer with some hot and sunny weather. Per my request, we didn’t plan a thing for Mother’s Day. I was hoping for the wide open day with my family with nowhere to be. When life is busy, it’s the unplanned days I look forward to the most.

It was like most Sundays with an early rise time of 6:30AM to get 3 little early birds and myself dressed and fed in time to get to 9AM mass. Gabe hadn’t stirred yet after our late night date to see a movie the night before, and it was his only day of the week to get a little more sleep. I had already dissolved several squabbles, picked up a couple spills off the floor, and franticly searched the laundry basket for a pair of clean underwear for Veronica. Forget my hair, it would have to settle for the frizzy mess it was, because I had two curly little manes to detangle instead.

However, I did wake up to two voices downstairs whispering to each other….
I got to open two packaged cards with crooked tape across the top, some skewed letters on the front and little surprises inside. Gabriel wrapped up a sharpie marker he found around the house because he said he knew I liked them. His name was written out proudly on the back of the card (a new skill he learned in Kindergarten this year). Veronica had spent a while coloring a flower garden and wrapping up a picture of me and my sister she had found on the fridge. In another envelope she had packaged up a few of her favorite purse trinkets. They couldn’t wait to give them to me and I got a few more squeezes around the neck than usual. I teared up because I couldn’t believe they were mine to raise.

Gabe stumbled downstairs close to 8AM with a new cappuccino maker wrapped in Christmas paper. He had snuck out with Max the day before on a “secret mission.” His thoughtfulness and dedication to our marriage is what I really see underneath the wrapping. I look at him with prayers of gratitude that he is the one I get to raise our children with. After church (to which we were late to just like every other Sunday..), Gabe made us all a big brunch. My brother came over, and we spent the day at the pool, took some long deliciously deep naps, and finished the evening with an ice cream run.

brunch

Just like every other day my patience grew short by with a crabby 4 year old, my back was sore from lifting my clingy toddler, and I was weary by the end of the day from settling fights about sharing toys. After the kids fell asleep I cleaned a messy kitchen and made sure things were in order for the last school week of the year. 

Motherhood never takes a break. You receive it with open arms the moment your first child enters your life, and you continue to keep those arms open until death. And as you spend your time, energy, emotion every waking moment on their well being, your whole being changes. These every day moments stacked into days and years is what produces an instrument capable of giving and receiving love in depths you never thought you were humanly capable of. Your limits are pushed, bent, and broken, and you become an instrument with a great ability to receive and distribute love. With the grace of God you become a constant source of life for your children. You are now the receiver and the giver. 

Just like every other mother, I will never be able to find the words in the human language to describe the receiving part. The part where you experience unearthly joy and happiness only received when you give over a part of yourself to another. 

I hope you all had a beautiful weekend! As always, thanks for being a reader and accompanying me on this wild adventure of motherhood:)

This one’s for you…

Peonies in paper via In Honor of DesignFlower Bundle Gifts via IHOD

As we were wrapping up some peonies in paper for some mama friends this morning, I couldn’t help but whisper a prayer for those who have a difficult weekend ahead. 

There are wombs in waiting.
There are arms aching for the children they have lost.
There are sons and daughters with fresh wounds from the loss of the person who raised them. 

It is easy for me to be overwhelmed with tears these days.
I tear up when I notice my child is growing.
I straight up weep when I think of their birth.
But today I can’t help but shed some tears for those mothers in waiting, those who mourn, and those who are trying to muster through the weekend.

A prayer for you today and through the weekend that God brings you peace, comfort, and HOPE that life still holds so much goodness for you, and is not too far in the distance. Know you are not forgotten, and that big bouquet right there^^…that one is for you.

And for each of you new and long time mothers, cheers to the life you give to your children tirelessly. I hope you are celebrated this weekend, and throughout the whole year!
x, Anna

Your first born son.

first born son

There is something a little tough about your first born son turning another year older.
Each birthday also brings an anniversary; a day seared into your memory forever.
Tiny flailing limbs were placed on your body as you tried to grasp how you took part in creating their life.
Love pours forth from your heart and soul as you were put face to face with the little babe who, with his first heartbeat, gave you the name mother.

From that day forward you never fall asleep again without wondering if you did everything okay that day.
You will never wake again without someone else’s life being more important than your own.
You watch as with each inch they grow, a little more independence is sprouted. You hold your breath, hoping this won’t be the last day you can pick him up in your arms.
And when that day comes and goes, you hold your breath, hoping this won’t be the last day he asks for his goodnight hug and kiss.
You understand God gave them to you to watch and protect, and that he is not yours to keep forever, but you sure wish the keeping part would take a pause now and then.
You wish with each birthday you could have squeezed in a little more time before the clock steals away another year.

With your first born, each birthday brings a year of new firsts and a close to a year of new experiences.
You look at them with tear filled eyes, and wish under your breath you could just hold them once more as a newborn babe looking at his mother for the first time.

—-

We love you Gabriel Joseph, and are so proud of the big heart your are growing inside your little 6 year old body.
Mama (I hope you call me that just a little longer too.)

6years