Please judge my heart

Being a parent is exhausting. Whether you have one or twenty it's a lot of work. Parents of toddlers should be compensated with hazard pay. I look around my house at the artwork on the walls, and the stains on the furniture and wonder if I'll ever have a "magazine" house. My car has permawhif of McDonalds fries, and you could wipe out hunger with all the food underneath the cushions.


I have never been a matching outfit, button down, hair perfect kind of mother. If you can dress yourself around here, it's encouraged. If it's backwards or inside out, I applaud your effort. Our eight year old used to put on shirts and check for the tag up front, if there was a tag he didn't ask to help turn his shirt around, he asked for scissors to cut the tag out. I'm sure I missed a teaching opportunity there, but you'll be hard pressed to find a sweeter eight year old, so I know my intentions were blessed.

There are days when I get discouraged, frustrated and dead tired. I rarely want to get up and get back in the game. But I know I've been richly blessed. When this season seems too much I thank God that He entrusted me with so much, and I pray for the mothers who go to sleep each night praying for children they do not have.

I'm hoping that when their pants are on backwards they've learned that I love them. I hope that underneath the jelly faces they are truly happy. I hope that they know they can do more because they can eat cereal off of a plate. When I hear them say "I lub you mom," I know my intentions are blessed.