Motherhood and The School of Virtue.

motherhood

In my few months over the holidays when I really slowed down, I had a good deal of time to really reflect about what kind of a mother I hope to be for my children, and how each of my children have impacted me. The outcome of all that reflecting? Realizing that motherhood is putting me back in school. The School of Virtue. Est. April 27th, 2009, the day I became a mother. There are days I flunk out. F+, maybe D-, but the school is always open for learning whether I am failing or not.

The day your child is born begins the eye opening, soul shattering, mind blowing, sometimes break you open, and breathtakingly BEAUTIFUL life lessons at the school of motherhood. Little by little motherhood has sometimes gently, and often abruptly opened my eyes to who I really am, have the capacity of being, and who I am choosing to be, whether I like it or not.

Patience, Sacrifice, and Unconditional love. It comes easy in that newborn face, and those sweet docile and oh so innocent first months when they eat, sleep, cry, and eat some more. Your heart pours forth. And through the tired weary eyes, you would give your life for that little soul in your hands. As they develop their own personalities and often times strong two year old will powers (my kids got a good dose of the strong), that overflowing unconditional love is still there mind you, but it starts to challenge you….to really see what you are made of. Those sappy overflowing feelings usually don’t show up when they are throwing the third tantrum in a row on the kitchen floor over the second snack you said they couldn’t have. Or when they stubbornly refuse to clean up their 132nd mess of the day…..the feelings are not there, even though the love still is. 

School of Virtue

I have had so many days when I see so painfully clear that I often demonstrate conditioned love to my children. When they aren’t the perfect child in public or they deliberately choose wrong over right,  I don’t often feel like being patient or forgiving. It is all too easy for me to be short tempered and snappy.  And yet they never run out of hugs and kisses for mama (yet), and are so quick to forgive me of my faults. All three of them teach me through every challenge and every small victory, every tear they shed, and every smile. Through the art of consistent love you heart is schooled. It is what slowly teaches you how to give without expectations or limitations. To love without thinking of what it will cost, or without expecting anything in return. 

It’s an honor to be at this school of virtue. Even when it is mundane, repetitive, or thankless. Motherhood is my greatest work. I think I will be in school for years to come, but am so grateful to be learning.

Sending love to each of you mothers – first time and long time. Your work is valuable beyond measure. You are irreplaceable in your child’s life, and your sacrifices may not be seen, but they will produce some pretty bountiful fruits in the hearts of your children.

P.S. I’ll edit this late night rambling tomorrow. Thanks for reading through it;)

Diary of a SAHWM

In Honor of Design | Chelsey Heidorn Photography
Photo by Chelsey Heidorn from our Family photo shoot.

Every day that I have been a mother, I have been a stay at home working mother. (SAHWM)
What I would call a mother who is sincerely trying to balance it all, who desperately wishes she had more hours in the day, more organization, more patience, and more coffee. I have had a range of titles, trying to figure out what works best with my family. From a graphic designer, accessory shop owner, blogger, and now creative business consultant, every week of motherhood has been a fight to balance the two worlds for fear one may squash the other. A work hard at night so that I don’t miss to much of their sweet little lives during the day mentality.

“Normal Day, let me be aware
of the treasure you are.
Let me learn from you, love you,
bless you before you depart.
Let me not pass you by in quest
of some rare and perfect tomorrow.”
-M.J. Iron

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Little Ink Stained Feet.

motherink stained feetink

Bless.
Bless these sweet little feet.
The feet that spilled the bottle of black ink.
The feet that smeared it all over the floor,
That made sure no item in sight was ignored.

What was going through his head? No one knows.
Puddle jumping and merry making I suppose?

Bless.
Bless these moments that demand more.
That push your patience to the limit, and squeeze you to the core.
The moments you wonder how on earth can you survive?
Is the world out to get you? Should I surrender and hide?
Bless these questions that bring you around back to the start.
Your life’s greatest work. Your treasure, your heart.

He stands before you, so innocently waiting,
Inquisitively wondering what mama’s face is conveying.

Bless.
Yes bless these little humans from their head to their toes.
Who teach us love reaches beyond the end of our nose.
Who gave us the gift of a love deep and wild.
A love beyond measure, and this moment is reconciled.
Bless these babes who call me mother,
A word of more value to me than any other.

Bless the ink stain on my shirt that asks I remember,
These little feet are not little forever.

Written late last night after bathtub scrubbing, floor scrubbing, and a few tears:) Maximilian Francis I love you wildly.