The ones that call me Mom
One of my favorite things in all the world is getting kisses from my little girls. Avery will smother me with kisses at any given moment. Taylor is a cuddler, sometimes using it to procrastinate on going to bed, but how can I say no? These are the peanuts that call me Mom. Momma. Mommy. Sometimes, Mother. Occasionally they refer to me as Heather. I adore them. As nearly every mother has over her children, I have lost sleep worrying about them and cried simply because I just love ’em so much and don’t have the words to express it. And the truth is, if I could put it to words, they wouldn’t understand anyway. I could listen to Avery giggle forever. I love for Taylor to tell me her made up stories. I try to capture on camera the clarity of their eyes and sweetness in their smiles and all thats behind it in hopes that I will not forget but I am lost in doing so.
I am learning to live in the moment. In the smile. In the extra hug. I’m thinking less about getting my clothes dirty and more about rolling around on the ground laughing with them. Thinking more about what they observe at 40 inches tall. Realizing it’s okay if my pants have lost their newness and are worn at the knees as long as I’ve connected with my kids at a deeper level – eye to eye or more importantly, heart to heart. The thing I want most for my children in this life is to know and love Jesus more than anything else. I want them to have a consuming hunger for Him at the core of their being. I want them without hesitation to go to their Heavenly Father before their earthly one, and to know His voice and His touch so well that it could not be mistaken. That is my greatest desire as a mom: to love my kids to Jesus. And to convince them to live at home into their 30’s.