Just like my Momma...
I just finished breakfast in bed with Gunner sitting in my lap drinking his chocolate milk. It was the perfect way to start my morning. I want to take Gunner for a run then head to BonBon's. Later I will do laundry because laundry doesn't consult calendars.
Last year on Mother's Day, I did not appreciate what it was, what I was. I had just got through my baby blues. I was still very much sleep deprived. This year, I am so much more in tune with my little man. I can understand words that others cannot. I know what he is trying to get when he grunts or points. I smell his poopy diapers much quicker. I know his cries. Tired, hurt, super tired, hungry, just leave him alone tired. I am so grateful that I was given another year to learn my kid. He is ahhhmazing by the way, and I am not even biased.
Sorry, I digress.
My freshman year of high school, my mom dropped me off at Comanche to take one of my last finals. She picked me up and we went to Priddy to work on her classroom. She had been feeling weird with chest pains all morning. She had convinced herself that it was nothing all morning. By afternoon, she felt too bad to keep up the argument so she drove us (looking back this is crazy!) to Goldthwaite. Dr. John Seth ran tests and determined my momma was having a heart attack. Since I was too young to drive her to a hospital, I watched them wheel her on a stretcher down a long stark white hallway. I was not able to ride in the ambulance (I am assume because I was a minor). I do not remember calling my dad but maybe I did. Maybe my mom did. I told them I did not want to go to the hospital. I could not see her in a worse state than the stretcher. How selfish of me. I called Josh, my youth minister, and he came and picked me up. I cried in the parking lot until he got there. I'm sure the office was told several times about it. I finally made it to the hospital and it was as bad as I thought. She was all hooked up. It scared me. She was talking to me and I was deaf to it. I was merely functioning at that point. She told me later that she told God she was ready if it was His will. I was so angry that she would tell him that. We needed her here. I deserved to have my mom. I was also angry at God that he might have considered taking her. I was too young and self involved to realize that she was merely being who she was, what He called her to be. A child of God that trusted Him. Her example was lost on me for several years. (Sidenote: My mom just told us this year that God had told her she would live to see all her grandchildren. One of us will just have to keep popping these babies out. And by one of us, I mean Kim.)
I remember the first couple of weeks of college, I needed something to be completed, most likely for FASFA as it was the bane of my existence.. every. single. year. I had called my mom to complain. I was telling her the situation and she was just trying to helpful. I told her that I would figure it out, in a hateful tone. That was my call for independence, minus the kilt and blue face paint. I wanted to prove to myself and others that I could do college. I think, I hope, I later apologized..when I begged to come home that weekend because turns out, I could not do making college friends as well as I thought. My mom, remembering that I had wanted freedom, told me I should stay in Denton and go to some of the activities. I held my tears until I got off the phone with the woman who didn't want to see her first born. Then I called my daddy and I went home. And I cried that Sunday evening when I went back to Denton. My mom was only trying to give me what I asked for, and what I really needed at the time, even though I could not see it.
Fast forward to April 2013. I had just become a mother. I was still trying to figure out if I was doing it right. This was a strange situation for me as I typically was good at things or I would quit. My skiing adventure lasted ten minutes and I was done. We were getting ready for Grandma's 75th birthday party and my sister's kids had just recovered from the stomach bug. The decision had to be made if I was going to take Gunner. I wanted to take him with me but I couldn't have a sick newborn. I was still figuring out the healthy newborn remember. I was torn. I called my mom begging her, what do I do? She told me that Dusty and I needed to talk about it and decide. UGH! I kept trying to tell her we did not know and I just wanted to a yes or no answer. She diaplomatically declined. We ended up leaving him at home and I caught the bug and Gunner didn't. Parenting victory!
Just last night as we were driving home from Comanche, Dusty and I were talking about how I favor my mom. When I was younger, I would have cringed at that statement. Now, I appreciate it. She is by far one of the most giving of her time people I know. She is a baby whisperer. She plays tiredlessly with Kaleb, Koen, and Gunner and claims to enjoy it. We talk once a day usually, which is unheard of for some families. She doesn't really care to cook or bake. I must say, I missed the cooking gene as well but stole some of my Aunt Peggy's love of baking. We technically had an iron in our house although it never got used. She teaches kinder kids and loves them through their potty accidents and whiny days. My momma taught me that prayer is the answer. I remember she could not find her wallet when we lived in Priddy. She was searching everywhere. She finally prayed that God would let her find it and sat down waiting for His answer. After awhile, she got up and went to the car where her wallet was waiting under the driver's seat. She taught me the importance of going and seeing family. Now I have a multitude of precious memories with my cousins, swinging on Grandma's back porch or building cushion castles on top of Uncle John. She made friends with an elderly man who did not have family nearby. As a pre teen, I hated being dragged to his house but we had just as many pictures on his walls as his kids. She knew how much it meant to him. She never worried with make up or hair products, knowing her true worth was known. I am blessed to become a non-ironer who loves family and waits for the Lord.
All this to say…
Happy Mother's Day to the momma who held my hand while I watched my son enter the world.
Happy Mother's Day to the momma who raised my husband to be the man he is today.
Happy Mother's Day to my sister who walked for her college diploma with her two boys watching.
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who raised our mommas and love our children now.
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who wondered if I ever left their houses. (Diane F., Janis P., Cherie M., & Natalie C.)
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who inspire me with their perfect meals and pinterest playdates.
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who remind me that motherhood is hard and being frazzled at the end of the day is okay.
Happy Mother's Day to my friends who love Gunner and check in on him.
Happy Mother's Day to my Bumpie March 2013 friends, your online presence has saved me many times.
Happy Mother's Day to the ladies who hate Mother's Day because it is a reminder that they have not become mommas yet. Your love is worthy. Prayers for you.
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who said goodbye to their babies much too early.
Happy Mother's Day to the fathers who became mommas when the momma just couldn't be there.
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who sacrificed watching their babies grow up so they could have a happy and healthy home with others.
Happy Mother's Day to the family members that have taken in kids for their safety and well being.
And a virtual hug to you all.
PS. I am a hugger.. just like my momma.
Last year on Mother's Day, I did not appreciate what it was, what I was. I had just got through my baby blues. I was still very much sleep deprived. This year, I am so much more in tune with my little man. I can understand words that others cannot. I know what he is trying to get when he grunts or points. I smell his poopy diapers much quicker. I know his cries. Tired, hurt, super tired, hungry, just leave him alone tired. I am so grateful that I was given another year to learn my kid. He is ahhhmazing by the way, and I am not even biased.
Sorry, I digress.
My freshman year of high school, my mom dropped me off at Comanche to take one of my last finals. She picked me up and we went to Priddy to work on her classroom. She had been feeling weird with chest pains all morning. She had convinced herself that it was nothing all morning. By afternoon, she felt too bad to keep up the argument so she drove us (looking back this is crazy!) to Goldthwaite. Dr. John Seth ran tests and determined my momma was having a heart attack. Since I was too young to drive her to a hospital, I watched them wheel her on a stretcher down a long stark white hallway. I was not able to ride in the ambulance (I am assume because I was a minor). I do not remember calling my dad but maybe I did. Maybe my mom did. I told them I did not want to go to the hospital. I could not see her in a worse state than the stretcher. How selfish of me. I called Josh, my youth minister, and he came and picked me up. I cried in the parking lot until he got there. I'm sure the office was told several times about it. I finally made it to the hospital and it was as bad as I thought. She was all hooked up. It scared me. She was talking to me and I was deaf to it. I was merely functioning at that point. She told me later that she told God she was ready if it was His will. I was so angry that she would tell him that. We needed her here. I deserved to have my mom. I was also angry at God that he might have considered taking her. I was too young and self involved to realize that she was merely being who she was, what He called her to be. A child of God that trusted Him. Her example was lost on me for several years. (Sidenote: My mom just told us this year that God had told her she would live to see all her grandchildren. One of us will just have to keep popping these babies out. And by one of us, I mean Kim.)
I remember the first couple of weeks of college, I needed something to be completed, most likely for FASFA as it was the bane of my existence.. every. single. year. I had called my mom to complain. I was telling her the situation and she was just trying to helpful. I told her that I would figure it out, in a hateful tone. That was my call for independence, minus the kilt and blue face paint. I wanted to prove to myself and others that I could do college. I think, I hope, I later apologized..when I begged to come home that weekend because turns out, I could not do making college friends as well as I thought. My mom, remembering that I had wanted freedom, told me I should stay in Denton and go to some of the activities. I held my tears until I got off the phone with the woman who didn't want to see her first born. Then I called my daddy and I went home. And I cried that Sunday evening when I went back to Denton. My mom was only trying to give me what I asked for, and what I really needed at the time, even though I could not see it.
Fast forward to April 2013. I had just become a mother. I was still trying to figure out if I was doing it right. This was a strange situation for me as I typically was good at things or I would quit. My skiing adventure lasted ten minutes and I was done. We were getting ready for Grandma's 75th birthday party and my sister's kids had just recovered from the stomach bug. The decision had to be made if I was going to take Gunner. I wanted to take him with me but I couldn't have a sick newborn. I was still figuring out the healthy newborn remember. I was torn. I called my mom begging her, what do I do? She told me that Dusty and I needed to talk about it and decide. UGH! I kept trying to tell her we did not know and I just wanted to a yes or no answer. She diaplomatically declined. We ended up leaving him at home and I caught the bug and Gunner didn't. Parenting victory!
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| The first boy to call her Gigi! |
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| Jessie Evans Photography |
Happy Mother's Day to the momma who held my hand while I watched my son enter the world.
Happy Mother's Day to the momma who raised my husband to be the man he is today.
Happy Mother's Day to my sister who walked for her college diploma with her two boys watching.
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who raised our mommas and love our children now.
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who wondered if I ever left their houses. (Diane F., Janis P., Cherie M., & Natalie C.)
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who inspire me with their perfect meals and pinterest playdates.
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who remind me that motherhood is hard and being frazzled at the end of the day is okay.
Happy Mother's Day to my friends who love Gunner and check in on him.
Happy Mother's Day to my Bumpie March 2013 friends, your online presence has saved me many times.
Happy Mother's Day to the ladies who hate Mother's Day because it is a reminder that they have not become mommas yet. Your love is worthy. Prayers for you.
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who said goodbye to their babies much too early.
Happy Mother's Day to the fathers who became mommas when the momma just couldn't be there.
Happy Mother's Day to the mommas who sacrificed watching their babies grow up so they could have a happy and healthy home with others.
Happy Mother's Day to the family members that have taken in kids for their safety and well being.
And a virtual hug to you all.
PS. I am a hugger.. just like my momma.
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