finding joy

the little things that make a mom

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Mon, 20 May 2013 14:12:00 +0000

A glimpse at the brave, and very real, mother.

She understands that staying up late holding her toddler doesn't mean that she'll get to sleep in late and yet she does it anyways.

She knows that despite being very busy that those children racing around the store, jumping down the stairs, throwing all the clothes out of the drawer that were just folded while they look for the one shirt that they love, are truly blessings.

She's a fighter for her children - an advocate, a dreamer for them, and is not afraid to make sure that they are safe. She'll stop traffic for them, will scan a crowd for them, and will not be afraid to keep the rules in place for them.

She wipes up spill after spill and wipes face after face and wipes away the tears and still manages to kiss them all goodnight and whisper words of love. She'll walk into their room at night and watch them sleep while wondering why in the world they were so trying during the day when they look like an angel while they sleep.

She can grocery shop in stealth mode with a toddler in the gigantic cart with the blue police truck in front, a baby in her sling, and a preschooler finding all sorts of favorite new things to try.

She is able to read the same book over and over and over again as well as provide entertaining voices for each of the characters. And she artfully knows the skill of skipping some long paragraphs for those nights when bedtime needs to arrive just a bit earlier.

She has the phone numbers for the doctor, dentist, soccer coach, and pizza place programmed on her phone. She also has the phone number for her dear friend who can remind her of everything she's doing right memorized.

She understands that phrases like I hate you and you're a horrible mom and this dinner is awful don't define her. She works hard to brush them off and to keep loving and fighting for those ones who are pushing her buttons.

She makes mistakes. She owns her mistakes. And then she brushes off the mistakes and tries again.

She laughs. She laughs at the simplest things - the preschooler and their funny sayings. Sometimes she remembers to write them down. And sometimes she is thankful for facebook because she shared them there and thus wrote them down at least somewhere.

She tries to say yes more to her kids - even if it's just playing trains, running in the backyard, or reading one more book at bedtime. And yes to herself - often that yes is really a no to more things to do and yes to her family or for time off.

She works hard. Sometimes she works out of the home or in the home or a combination of both. But, no matter what, the brave mother works. And often she doesn't get much credit for that work, but she keeps on doing it.

She's learning to compare less.

She has mastered the yoga pants look and pony tail in the hair. She also knows that if she runs to the store really quick with the hopes that she doesn't run into anyone that she almost certainly will run into someone.

She understands that fears of failure, not measuring up, overwhelm, and all of that are normal. They don't define her. In fact, she's learning that those things that she worries about are the very things that make her stronger.

She has sometimes learned the art of the whisper. When they get loud - she whispers. And if she forgot this one now she'll remember.

She can store a month's worth of dates and appointments in a calendar in her head. Most of the time. For the other times she's thankful for her phone.

She understands that time keeps moving and tries really hard to embrace the days that she is given. And sometimes, on those days that are just plain hard, she's truly grateful that time does keep moving.

She knows when to put down her phone and shut the computer screen but she's not afraid to use them or to give herself a break or to pull out her camera to take a picture.

She can remove toys from their packaging in record time and can assemble toys just as fast. And she knows where batteries might possibly be for those needed toys or which toys to take them out of so that the new toy can have them.

She tapes artwork on the fridge, wipes handprints off the wall, sweeps dirt from the floor, rescues baseball gloves from the grass, puts books back on the shelf, cheers from the sidelines, gives up her coat, and pours hundreds of glasses of water all the while remembering that it is just a season, a window of time, in life.

She may be weary and deep down need sweet reminders of worth. Like you matter. You're amazing. You make a difference. You can do this. You are mom - a hero. Stuff like that.

She is a mom. A brave, empowered, go-getter, fighter, beautiful, trying to remember the little things, stepping out in faith, tucking them into bed at night and being grateful, mom.

It's the little ordinary it's just a mom things that make a mom.

What little thing do you love about being a mom?

******

Need encouragement? 21 of my Dear Mom Letters are now together - they are the letters about why you are not failing, why you matter, and what to do on those overwhelming motherhood days.
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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

a picture of a mother from a to z

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Fri, 17 May 2013 13:19:00 +0000

A description of a mother.

Amazing: She's a giver of self, master of the schedule, who has the ability to get everyone dressed and find the missing shoe within fifteen minutes, and daily is in one of the most challenging jobs in the world for the littlest pay but with the most beautiful rewards that are often not seen until it is finished.

Brave: Motherhood is full of brave moments that are often dismissed as normal moments. A mother is brave in the simple moments of life - in all the times she believes that the next day will be better than the last or that their child will get better or that they will be able to make it to five pm and get dinner made or in those times that they let those no longer babies but now grown ones go just a bit - those are just a fraction of the brave mother moments.

Courageous: She can change a diaper with only one wipe. She can walk her kindergartner into class, give a kiss on the cheek, and not let the tears fall until she's back in the car. She has the learned that art of getting up, brushing off the tired, and continuing on with her day even when there's no coffee in the house.

Dreamer: Not only for extra hours of sleep or that the baby sleeps in or for them to not forget anything in their backpacks or that there isn't any bickering between the kids in the day, but also for those children she's blessed to mother.

Efficient: Also known as chief multi-tasker and chief get stuff done in a crunch individual.

Feeler: Happy, sad, worried, grateful, angry, hopeful, tired, joyful, silly, frustrated, weary, with are you kidding me? moments, proud times, disappointed, focused, and all more within a 24 hour period. Sometimes she just feels exhausted and in those times she feels everything a hundred times more.

Grace Giver: For herself, for her family, and for those children that call her mother. Grace is something that is learned throughout that journey of being a mother.

Hand holder: For those first classes, across the street, when they're sick, when you believe in them, when you watch a movie together, in the store, before a piano recital, and when they say goodbye.

Instituter: Of rules, regulations, plans, structures, time outs, and bedtimes.

Joy Seeker: A skill that is learned and refined as the motherhood days go on. She learns to find joy in the little things - the everyday very beautiful moments that the world races by but the mother gets to cherish. It's in the handprints on the windows and the marker marks left on the table - they're the little things that make a house a home and a woman a mom.

Kisser: On cheeks of babes and sticky faces of toddlers and nervous first graders and for that owie that just needs to get better on that graduating senior who feels like they were just the toddler.

Learner: Always learning. Everything in motherhood that is new for every mother. No one knows what to expect until they're in the midst of it. And to make things interesting - no two kids are alike and what one likes the other hates and correction strategies for one make the other rebel. It's a constant breath of learning, trying again, learning, and trying again.

Manager: Of time, laundry, kids, cars, mail, bills, groceries, schedules, phone numbers, orthodontic treatment options, allowances, of things fair, and all those little everyday things.

Nurturer: From pushing swings to tying shoes to spreading peanut butter on bread to whispering the words I believe in you to tucking them in at night - mothers are nurturers in the most simple things that they do. They carry their children's dreams with them and with that their heart.

Optimistic: Most of the time. This is the beautiful trait of mothers. Even when they aren't feeling optimistic about themselves, they're often very optimistic about those under their care.

Patient: Even though we never pray for patience mothers are some of the most patient people out there. It takes patience to give options all day long and to reason to little ones and to clean their room day after day after day even though the promise was that the next time it would stay clean. It takes patience to when the time ticks by slowly or when the three year old decides to have one of those challenging preschool days.

Quieter: Of bad dreams and fears and anxieties - some of which are in her own heart.

Real: A real mother has the good days, bad days, medium days, crazy days, fabulous days, terrible days, normal days, fast paced days, and days where she just feels grateful. Real is beautiful. Even if sometimes it is a bit messy.

Saint: Just because. I mean, really, mothers really are saints. If one can stand up to years of diaper changers, throwing up catching, late night rocking, dirty plate scraping, slammed doors dealing, absolutely fair and equal ice cream dishing, constant driving, nose wiping, and stepping on legos then one can move to saint category.

Thinker: The mother is a thinker. What's for dinner, where are the ballet shoes, when will they get home, what's the best way to potty train, where should we go tomorrow, where in the world is the coffee, how can I be at four places at once. The mom - she's a thinker.

Understander: Moms get to listen to it all - from the needs for the new things to the worries about not doing well to the hopes and dreams. Moms get their kids, they understand their kids - most of the time - and when they don't they've mastered the art of nodding and smiling and listening and hoping and loving those kids.

Very Tired: Always. Not just physically, but mentally. The mother has little ones they're raising in a very fast, competitive, and often not measure up feeling world. All of that, and the lack of sleep, can leave a mother tired. But even in the tired, there's gratitude for little things that help - like Rock Paper Scissors for who gets to start or calendars with dates all filled in or dishwashers that are constantly running.

Wonder Woman: Yes. This. Always this. Read --> Mothers are heroes.

Xtraordinary: Unbelievable, brave, courageous, get up at the crack of dawn, can make the day better, can find the items forever deemed as lost that no one else can find when put to the challenge, laundry master, dishes cleaner, floor mopping, toilet scrubber, hair comber, answers to a million cries of mom, learns to say yes more, sharer of the last sip of her coffee, deal finder, who goes to bed exhausted only to start it again the next day - mothers are extraordinary.

Youthful: At least always by heart. Children keep us mothers young each Candyland game after a time (even though we joke that they're making us get older) despite the graying of hair and adding of wrinkles. Which, by the way, should only be called laugh lines.

Zipper Unstuckers: This automatically goes on the list. Have a child with a coat with a stuck zipper? Add a mother and that zipper will come undone. Zippers are no match for any zealous mother.

Onward brave mothers onward!

What words would you use to describe moms?

Read these to read more about how the amazing strength of moms.
20 Motherhood Tips
20 {More} Motherhood Tips
Ten Things Moms Need to Remember

For those of you looking to link with Friday Favorite Things - it will return - it's undergoing a bit of a change to make it better and with a deeper focus. Thanks for your patience!
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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

the little things matter {free printable}

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Thu, 16 May 2013 16:50:00 +0000

Brave mother, today, today it's about celebrating you, your story, and all the little amazing things that you do. I know that so often life is full of seeing the things that aren't done, aren't finished, and didn't turn out the way you wanted them to be. Today? Today it is about seeing those things in life where you do well, where you said yes, and where you found joy.

You have them. They are tucked in the fabric of your everyday. Those smile and high fives that you give to your toddler when they are potty training matter. Those times where you swing through Starbucks to get that frappuccino for your teenager matter. The folding of socks, the reading of books, the making of dinner, the breathing deep while you regain perspective - all of that matters.

Celebrate you. Your story. Your accomplishments. Start to see the hero of a mother that you truly are in the everyday normal. The {free} printable that I've attached is simple - it's a place for you to record the joy moments, the little things that matter moments from your day. They are simple things, sweet mother, simple normal things that I want you to embrace instead of dismissing them as just things moms do. Those just things? They are amazing brave motherhood beautiful things.

Download the page. Share this page with a friend. Download it again. You and I are in the motherhood journey together. When we encourage each other we become stronger. You encourage me. Thank you.

Onward my brave mother friend, onward.

Click -> the little things matter to download your free printable {via google docs}

Where were you brave today? What little thing made a difference?

*****
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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

the perfect mom fallacy.

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Wed, 15 May 2013 13:14:00 +0000

But where does this idea of being perfect come from?

I read the words embedded in my comments and mulled them over - me the perfectionist that will make a graphic over because the spacing is off a bit - me the perfectionist who will wander her yard in the morning and find all the flaws in it. Me the perfectionist, who will throw that blanket over the rips in the couch or apologize for the mess or be afraid to admit that there are dirty dishes waiting to be washed. Me the perfectionist who writes about letting go of the perfect simply because she, too, has to constantly put life and joy and worth into perspective.

This perfect mother syndrome. I guess that's what it could be called. Where and when did the idea of being or having everything perfect get added to the layers of everything a mother has to do? It's this perfect pressure on us as mothers - this need to be on top of everything constantly - and there doesn't seem to be space for grace. It's either perfect or it's not measuring up. Failing.

I love media. I love pinterest, facebook, television, my iphone, and all of the conveniences of modern world. I love my dishwasher, laundry machine (especially after a weekend of sick kids), and that car that races me from here to there in that never ending scurry to keep going. I love being able to write on a teeny netbook on my front porch in Minnesota and to communicate and form relationships with women all over the world. I love it. It's a gift, this media, this form of communication, and all of that.

But, I also think that it contributes to this illusion of perfection. You see media and modern communications allows us to give glimpses of lives to others. No longer do you have to travel great distances to see others and to spend time doing life with each other - now you can simple write/share/post a picture of a moment. And you and others get to choose the moment. Most often it's the highlights - the good moments - and thus a stream of ideals and good moments that should be celebrated becomes the stream of normal. There isn't a stream of regular, everyday, kids crying in the corner because you wanted them to wear their tennis shoes instead of their flipflops moments. You don't get the everyday real.

Sometimes I wonder what it was like to be a mother one thousand years ago when there wasn't this constant stream of information pouring past them constantly. Motherhood was about real survival then - it was this need to keep one's child alive and fed and clothed and safe. And yes, you and I, we still have that deep intrinsic need. Yet, now on top, there's this layer of needing to be a certain way. To be the creative mom with the super cool birthday treats. To look a certain way and buy only these clothes. To have homes without rips in the couches and an herb garden on the window sill. To have lives that have wave petunia baskets overflowing on the front porch and handmade crafts dotting the walls. To have <insert anything> to be a better, more funny, more fit, more creative, more on top of it, more anything mother.

It's exhausting.

But, it's not real. Real motherhood? Oh, that's a battleground with legos on the floor and doors slammed in faces and the words I hate you thrown out so quickly over things like losing an ipod. It's got a mother standing in her kitchen staring into cupboards that are too bare and kids telling you they need money for this next thing and you're just wondering how you'll get groceries. It's full of shoes in the entry way that are strewn everywhere and a pile of laundry that could be scaled and classified as a high point in the landscape in your neighborhood. It's full of gum on the shoes and cries of hurry up hurry up let's get going and toddlers who refuse to do anything that day. It's full of working and wondering and the same thing again and again.

It's full of mothers whose hearts are lonely. Whose hearts wonder if they are really making a difference. There are women who have given up work or who have to work or those who do both. There are mothers with kids that are sick or kids with special needs or even those who take care of their own parents. There are mothers who look at their lives and feel like they're just not doing it well enough. There are mothers who are single. They are mothers whose own mother isn't in the picture. There are so many stories, so many variables, so many options - there is no one perfect mom. Not one.

Sometimes we don't celebrate the real motherhood. It gets lost in the cloak of perfect - this illusive non tangible ideal that screams at us that being a real mother isn't enough. To that I say - you are enough. You are enough. Do you need to hear that today? To remember that mothering isn't defined on the number of actually completed pinterest projects, quirky status updates, artsy pictures, organic meals, etc.? Those things, while they are great and fun and needed at times, well, they don't define worth. Worth can't be quantified by external things completed. Worth as a mother comes in the every day. It's in those moments when you get on your knees and look in a child's eye and tell them you believe in them and you love them even after they told you that you are the worst mother in the world. It's in the days when you forget about the rips in the couch and piles of dishes in the sink and the legos on the floor and you welcome a friend in so you can just be.

It's hard to be real, to breathe, to let go, and yet, this world of need to do's needs you to celebrate the beauty of your imperfect motherhood story. No one, and I repeat no one, has the perfect motherhood story. You and I and the next mother we all have our moments of stumbling, falling down, and those days when we simply look around and wonder how in the world this story became our life.

Why does your story matter? Why is your story beautiful?

Because it isn't perfect. Perfect doesn't exist. Perfect motherhood would mean the toddler deciding to potty train on day one, the front porch never having bikes and toys strewn about, and days that run like clockwork. Do you know what makes a mother beautiful? Do you know what defines her? It's her strength in making an imperfect life beautiful. We celebrate the courage, the stick to it type tenacity, the love that we share, and the times when we don't give up. And those things? Those things happen in the imperfect real world of life. Not the perfect.

If all of the externals were suddenly stripped away from us and you and I were left with just surviving you and I would no longer care about those perfect measuring up parameters of today's culture. Instead, our life would be spent doing the most simple and yet celebrated things. Feeding our children. Loving them. Protecting them.

You do that now.

Breathe. Don't define your motherhood story by all you think you should be doing. Define it by all the outstanding things that you already do. I know you have them - step back - just breathe - and start to see them and give yourself credit. I am glad you are not perfect. I am not perfect either. You may have goals that you are reaching for - keep reaching, keep trying, keep giving. But, give yourself the grace to extend grace to yourself. Give yourself credit when credit is due. And begin to see you and all that you already do. Don't shortchange your story by defining it with the fallacy of the perfect mom.

Your motherhood journey is beautiful because it is your story. Celebrate that story today. You. The mom in the trenches. You the mom on a great day or the mom on a horrible rotten day or the mom on an average normal day.

You are mother. That is powerful. And that in itself is absolutely perfect.

*******

Need encouragement? 21 of my Dear Mom Letters are now together - they are the letters about why you are not failing, why you matter, and what to do on those overwhelming motherhood days.

to receive finding joy via email simply click subscribe.
Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

real motherhood. you are not failing. you are being brave.

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Tue, 14 May 2013 14:16:00 +0000

I sat there, exhausted, in my living room on the much to worn plaid couch with a rip in the seam that I always try to cover with a throw blanket and prayed that just for the rest of the night no one else would get sick. As I closed my eyes in that moment, with my ears on alert for the cry of mom, I sank into that couch and thought about how this was the perfect reminder for me on Mother's Day weekend. Deep down, way inside, I realized I was secretly hoping for this idea, this ideal of the perfect day - the flowers and handmade cards and coffee brought in for me - and yet, the reality with the puking children was that it simply wasn't going to happen.

Real life. Real motherhood.

I didn't really want to look at it. I wanted to put a mask on the hard stuff - you know - like I cover the rip on my couch in my living room with the blanket throw. That's the tear that I will try so hard to not show in pictures to others simply because I don't want anyone to really see that part of my home. To me, it sticks out like red paint on a white wall - this obvious, ugly part of my home - that I don't desire for the world to observe.

So I hid it.

Sweet mothers in the trenches do you know what I realized while I was sitting in that living room without the blanket over the rip and a child resting on my arms? I discovered I really didn't care at that moment about a silly rip in my couch. At that moment I cared about, well, first no more throwing up, but second that I was there for my kids. I was the one wiping their forehead and telling them that I loved them. I was there, turning on the shower, washing towels, and helping them rest. I didn't care about that little thing that I spend too much time thinking about and arranging blankets to cover.

It's so easy to get distracted from the importants with the idea of measuring up. That rip on my couch? It was a definer - to me it spoke of not being able to replace the couch and then I allowed that to define worth. But, you know, the truth is that silly rip is not a definer of not making it - it's a definer of motherhood. It shows a family lives here. It shows that sometimes, sometimes I said yes to throwing off the cushions and making a fort. It represents years of me sitting on the couch holding babies, reading books, praying, and resting. It's about conversations and family and opening presents. It's about listening, understanding, and working through things with those we love.

Sometimes the things that we hide are the very things that make us strong and who we are. Remember those dishes that we've all been talking about that I had in my sink in my Dear Mom Who Feels Like she is Failing post? Those dishes aren't about failing or measuring up or something to hide. Those are a reflection on life. Living. Family.

Sure, we get behind and things happen. And those are the times, inevitably, when someone will knock on our door and pop on over. Hold your head high. You are doing something much more powerful, much more brave, much more amazing than keeping everything looking and feeling perfect.

You are being a mother.

A mother lives in a world of things that aren't perfect. She encounters messes, sassing back, throwing up, late deadlines, challenging toddlers, spills in the back of the van while she's driving, payments due, mornings where the lack of coffee seems to cloud the day, projects to complete, the never ending laundry to fold, and the fear, the wonder, the anxiety that somehow she's not doing it all well. That maybe, maybe the mother down the road is doing it better than her. And maybe, maybe she's failing just a teeny bit at the motherhood thing and then there's this fear of motherhood and not being perfect. The perfect mom, she's not there. Think about this - the perfect couch lasts for a week.

What happens with time? The couch gets better. More comfortable. You find the spot where you love to sit in the morning as the sun streams in and your coffee is in hand and you have those four minutes of silence before the day begins. It's like life. Like motherhood. The more you mother, the more you plod forward in that never ending current of time, the more comfortable it can become. The things that we run from become the things we embrace.

By Mother's Day evening my family felt great - good enough to go to church and to smile and laugh and be together. While we were there they showed a video of all the beautiful things that kids in our church loved about their mothers. Not one of my kids said anything about that couch. They said things like she gets me food and she's a good teacher and she isn't afraid to be goofy with us. Little things. Life things.

Those are the things that matter, dear mother. Those little things? Those are often the little things that you do that are truly so amazing. You may feel like you are just under water trying to tread harder - and that - that is such a deep part of motherhood and life. But that treading, that kicking to keep your head up, those late nights holding those ice cream pail puke buckets - those things matter. The things that matter are those giving of self moments. The times where you find the courage to keep going and sit up and don't know where the energy comes from. The times where you muster up so much bravery and defend your child. The times where you slow down and simply sit on the couch and read the Curious George book over and over and over even though your to-do list is screaming at you.

Those things, those are life giving motherhood brave moments.

They are tucked in your everyday now. Right now, today, today you are blessing your family. You right now, the mother who straightened a collar, packed a lunch, laughed a bit, cried, pushed the toddler on the swing, and who sometimes wonders if she's doing it right - I tell you - onward. You are more amazing than you know.

Do you know that the day I get rid of that couch I will shed some tears. Oh, I'll be happy to no longer throw the blanket over the corner. But that couch? That couch has been in my home for my entire motherhood journey. That's the couch that all of my babies came home on. That's the couch where I write this blog in the depths of a cold winter. That's the couch where I've slept, dreamed, and read story after story.

It's really very beautiful.

What you are doing today as a mother is really beautiful.

Today embrace the bravery of a mother. You. Hold your head high. Love your children. Celebrate your story and the amazing beautiful ordinary moments in between.

Onward BRAVE mother.

Onward.

****

Need encouragement? 21 of my Dear Mom Letters are now in convenient ebook format - they are the letters about why you are not failing, why you matter, and what to do on those overwhelming motherhood days.

to receive finding joy via email simply click subscribe.
Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

10 Things To Remember About Motherhood

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Mon, 13 May 2013 15:45:00 +0000

Some simple things that I believe mothers need to remember on that motherhood journey. They are the words I would tell my daughters as they begin their motherhood journey and would love to tell my younger self as a mother. They are words about being brave and moving forward and realizing that because being a mother matters so much and that what moms do makes a difference.

Ten Things to Remember About Motherhood

1. It's not a sprint. Even though you may feel like you are out of breath and worn out with mothering, motherhood is simply not a sprint. It is a steady race, with moments of sprinting, moments of catching your breath, and moments where you sit on the sideline with your head in your hands gathering resolve, courage, and strength to keep on going. Those moments, those keep up the pace moments, are the moments that build character and strengthen resolve. And, yet, remember that even though it's not a sprint there will be days when you say it moves so fast - they are the moments when you look at the teenager and sigh and wonder where the toddler went.

2. There will be moments that are plain hard. Often, these moments can be over the littlest things. Reasoning with a toddler about which shirt to choose or dealing with a defiant six year old or wiping up spilled milk all over the just mopped floor. And then there are moments that are challenging - finances, relationships, real life - all tucked within the motherhood journey. Don't be surprised when the hard moments come, but also know that those are the moments that shape you as a mother and will surprise you with your strength. Don't expect to savor every moment - I think too often the precedent is out there that we need to love every second - not true. Instead, learn to love the little things, yes, but also expect that there will be sometimes that simply are challenging. It's a balance.

3. There will be amazing moments. Surprisingly, these will often be the moments that you least expect - the impromptu little events tucked into a busy life. These are the moments that Hallmark loves but cannot be scripted into life. When those sweet moments come - celebrate them - write them down - and simply remember them as those gifts of time that you were blessed to share with your family. These are the sweet days in life when every thing seems to work perfectly and your heart is content and the kids are being great and the living room stayed fairly clean and you made dinner and everyone loved it and your to-do list was almost done - savor those times - for they are gifts.

4. You will mess up. Every mother, every person makes mistakes. Mistakes don't define. Learn from them, change the pattern, and move on. Mistakes teach us about ourselves, bless us with humility, and make us more determined in who and what we want to be. There is power in the words I am sorry and then working to make a change. Don't fear messing up - know that it will happen - and instead use those times as a time to be better and to grow. And yes, your children will survive even if you don't have everything perfect. And, remember, honestly, that the moments that matter are the moments where you stop, slow down, and sit. Maybe the house isn't perfect, the dinners not perfect, but that doesn't truly matter - what matters is the giving of you and the willingness to keep on going.

5. You will astound yourself. Yes. This. You may not see it now, but when you you look back at your day, week, month, years, and time of motherhood there will be moments nestled in there where you will be amazed at the great strength that you had. Those moments are there, dear mother who feels like she is in the trenches right now, they are there. And those moments are sometimes the simplest, most overlooked things that you do everyday. Those milk pouring, hand holding, running in the backyard, and caring for kids moments matter - those are the moments of deep strength and perseverance.

6. Your patience will be pushed to the limits. I never understand patience until I had children. You know - the thirty-four times you're asked for a snack in the morning even though you have a snack time or the hunt for the shin guards for soccer that are supposed to be placed in the same spot but once again are lost or the what's for dinner cries or the reasoning with a toddler over which shirt to wear - motherhood is about learning patience. Being a mother has taught me that there are some battles not worth fighting and have also taught me the strength and power of patience. The great thing about patience? It can (and will) be learned.

7. There is no perfect mother. That perfect mother ideal simply doesn't exist. Give yourself grace to make a mistake and move on. Grace is a powerful gift - one that needs to be extended to not only our children but also to ourselves. Sometimes the bar of motherhood is held so high that it is easy to miss all the beautiful and meaningful things that you do every single day. Learn to celebrate those things - the times where you said yes or pulled up your boot straps and kept going or when you try. Being a good mother doesn't mean being a perfect mother. Honestly, the perfect mother is the real mother who has the ability to embrace the little things, to give herself grace, and to admit where she truly is in the day to day. It's not about being perfect - it's about progress.

8. Your instinct is a powerful gift. So much of being a mother is learned by actually being a mother. So much of what I've learned from being a mother has been because I've walked through it. Mothers are blessed with instinct - learn to listen to it and trust it. But don't hesitate to ask for help, advice, or encouragement. It is not a reflection on motherhood strength to ask for help - rather it is the opposite - sometimes the greatest moments of strength are when one humbles self and asks for help.

9. Many days if feels like you are moving in a giant circle doing the same thing again and again. Because, well, you really are doing the same things again and again. This is why patience is put into play. This giant circle may feel like it's going around and around but it's still creeping forward, still moving on, and this is the gift of normal. Those everyday things - the making of mac and cheese, the putting pony tails in the hair, the slammed car doors, the tying of shoes, the answering of why again and again, those are the normal motherhood moments. They may not feel beautiful, but I have this feeling that one day we all will look back and sigh and remember the normal as so incredibly beautiful and something to be cherished.

10. You will find the strength you have within. You have strength. Power. Tenacity. Vision. The patience of a saint. And this is what I celebrate. It's the brave mother portion - that part of you that stays up all night holding puke buckets and still keeps going. It's the part of you that wonders if all of this mothering stuff makes a difference and deep down knows that what you are doing matters and makes a life difference. It's the braveness to drop a child off at school or at the airport or at camp or to bring one home and into your life. Motherhood is brave. It is such a testimony to the strength of you. Do not ever underestimate what you are doing, dear mother. You are brave.

So today, brave mother, in whatever state of your motherhood journey is I want to encourage you to first remember how deeply what you do matters and second to continue to press on as a mother. One day, one step, one clean kitchen and folded sock and car ride, after another.

Brave mother. That's what you truly are.

How about you? What would you add?

*****

May is National Celiac Disease Awareness Month. As many of you know, my son Samuel was diagnosed with Celiac Disease in January 2011 at 15 months old. Please join me for discussion and encouragement with gluten free living on the Udi's Gluten Free Community Boards "target=_blank"<-link. I am so thankful for their dedication and commitment to making safe gluten free food that tastes amazing. Need encouragement? 21 of my Dear Mom Letters are now in convenient ebook format - they are the letters about why you are not failing, why you matter, and what to do on those overwhelming motherhood days.
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when mother's day hurts just a bit

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Fri, 10 May 2013 13:40:00 +0000

Some talk about Mother's Day.

I'm going to be real. I know Mother's Day hurts for some of you and that you kind of actually look forward to the day after when you can put that big red x on the calendar and call Mother's Day done. I know that.

Do you know why?

I see it. I see it in this world that there are piles of things that hurt. And those things that hurt on other days can sometimes hurt more on a day that seems like it is about celebrating the perfect image of mom.

That mom, that life, well, that just doesn't exist.

I know we could try to rationalize in our brains that it is just a holiday put together by Halmark and all of those retailers and that such a day shouldn't really matter. Or hurt. Or make it feel like our lives need to measure up to this nebulous idea of perfect motherhood. But, no matter the origins, or all the people who really do want to honor moms, the truth is that sometimes Mother's Day is a day that is just a bit hard.

I think it hurts because sometimes it creates this illusion of moms and motherhood and life that seems unattainable or perfect. It's full of white sandals, kids with combed and parted hair, brunches, families, and tulips carried inside. Or at least that's what we sometimes see. There are glowing cards and chocolate fountains and rose stands set up on the side of the road. There are pictures of families that are happy, without financial worries, and kids that make the cutest handmade cards.

But real motherhood? Real life? It so often doesn't look like that. Real life has rebellious kids, fighting parents, no money for brunch much less a card, rainy days, unmet expectations, miscarriages, infertility, children that are sick, and on and on and on and on. This isn't about listing all those things or pretending I get how all those things feel that hurt. It's about acknowledging that they are there. Being real. Those things don't work their way onto a card very well and there aren't that many roses for the mom in the midst of those kind of journeys. Those are the things that could pick at the joy, the little things in motherhood that truly matter.

On Mother's Day this year I remember the big amazing picture of moms. You. And maybe you don't have a life that is perfect and you don't get to do all the things that you think others get to do on Mother's Day or maybe you don't even get a card. Maybe you feel like you give and give and give and all you do is lost or not appreciated and all you would love is a small bouquet of flowers. Maybe sometimes you don't like being a mom or don't feel like you do it well or just are worn. Maybe you are really looking forward to ripping that page of the calendar and just moving up. You know what? It's not fair that this day can hurt. And I am sorry. I guess today, today, I just want to remember you and to thank you and for all that you do.

I think the reason I write so much about celebrating real, and the real little things that we do, is that I've seen and I've felt the pressure of a life that didn't feel like it measured up. And as soon as I started comparing my life with another's life or what I thought motherhood should look like I quickly found myself discontent. That comparison thing eats away at contentment. So instead of comparing with others we need to see what we do. Which is why I write about joy, and finding joy, and you, the brave mother in this world.

Motherhood is brave.

The flowers, cards, brunches, notes, and chocolates on a day set aside are lovely. But so is May 13, the day after Mother's Day. And May 14, 15, 16, 17, and all the days until the next one loops around. I honor you for all of those days as well. Those days in between, the hard days, the great days, and the normal days. I stand up and applaud you for those days. For fighting and moving forward and for being mom. It's that deep hope that we have in us that makes us press on to the next day and do the next thing and to see the beauty in life even when it isn't perfect. Hope is powerful.

Being a mom isn't about those grandiose moments and one day of the year where the world pauses and sells cards and flowers. It's about those little things that are the amazing things. It's about tenacity and spunk and inhaling deep and moving on. Those are the things that I celebrate.

Thank you. Thank you for getting up, cooking meals, paying bills, buttoning shirts, combing hair, checking homework, reading stories, picking up toys, wiping noses and faces, playing catch, driving to and fro and to and fro, praying, scrubbing dishes, tucking in, playing tag, folding socks, breaking up fights, opening slammed doors, sorting toys, listening to whines, mowing yards, sighing but smiling, being a friend, and the other million times infinity amazing things that moms do.

I remember you. I remember you today, tomorrow, on Mother's Day, and then on Monday of next week when you press on again.

And to you, today, I thank. Thank you moms whose lives aren't perfect but just keep on going. Thank you moms whose Mother's Day doesn't look like what they imagined. Thank you moms in those calm places in life. Thank you moms. Thank you for giving of your life and for loving those children and for pulling up your bootstraps and looking for the little things in life to love. Thank you.

You are the definition of brave.

Onward, brave mother. Onward.

And thank you. Thank you for all you do.

*******

2013 Finding Joy Dear Mom Letters - $7.99
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Dear Mom Letters - the Ebook on sale now.

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Thu, 09 May 2013 14:24:00 +0000

I've listened to you. I've listened to the emails asking for my Dear Mom Letters to be put into an ebook. And because I've listened I've worked hard in the past weeks to get it done. It's taken some dedication, and I've had an amazing team helping me, but today, today I'm excited to announce that the first 21 of my Dear Mom Letters are now available for sale in Ebook format for $7.99.

2013 Finding Joy Dear Mom Letters - $7.99

Thank you for walking this journey with me - it's such a journey to put your thoughts down and to release them to the world. As I've been working on getting this ebook formatted and beautiful - it's got all of the amazing pictures in it and has the feel of this site - I've also been working hard on finishing my first book. Both labors of love, both putting one's heart on the line. And to you, I thank you. I thank you for standing by me, for sharing my words, and for your support.

It matters to me.

So today, today I'd like to present you with the 2013 Edition of the Finding Joy Dear Mom Letters. These are the letters where many of you found me - from Dear Mom Who Feels Like She is Failing to Dear Mom Who Wants to Quit to Dear Mom with Littles- they are all there - together for you to read in a convenient ebook format. These are the letters that moms have loved - the pull up your boot straps you make a difference and matter type letters. Do you need a bit of hope today? That is what these letters are all about.

Here is the complete listing of the letters included:

So from me to you - thank you. I am simply humbled, grateful, and overwhelmed at the outpouring of support that you have blessed me with. Moms matter greatly. I love cheering moms on, cheering you on, and reminding you about how much you matter in the midst of this motherhood journey. I am thankful.

Onward BRAVE MOTHER Onward!

Rachel

2013 Finding Joy Dear Mom Letters - $7.99

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

50 Amazing Things About Moms

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Wed, 08 May 2013 13:19:00 +0000

Here are fifty AMAZING things that mothers do - those fun, rare, and incredible things.

Moms can...

1. Pick up objects with their toes.
2. Answer eight questions at once while talking on the phone and answering an email.
3. Count to 10 several times in a row several times a day.
4. Find a pair of underwear in a basket full of unfolded clothes in thirty-three seconds.
5. Make amazing dinners, or at least they seem like they should be amazing, with limited ingredients.
6. Push the gigantic cart at Target and turn corners without knocking over displays or small children.
7. Change a diaper, if needed, with only one wipe.
8. Use the power of google to find answers to homework questions that they have forgotten.
9. Laugh in those times when they feel like crying.
10. Keep going even on little sleep and no caffeine.

Moms make...
11. The world better with a simple hug and smile.
12. The definition of multitasking what it truly is - amazing and needed.
13. A messy living room clean in 5 minutes when they find that someone is coming over in 10 minutes.
14. The tears falling from a bad dream go away.
15. The most patient person in the world look like they are impatient.
16. A mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich with only remnants of both left in the jar.
17. Scary thunderstorms seem like nothing.
18. Running after a toddler a form of daily exercise and yoga.
19. The cutting of grapes in half and hotdogs in quarters look easy.
20. The most out of the seven minute naps that they are blessed with twice a week.

Moms love...
21. Art with pictures of mom drawn so carefully.
22. Beds that are made and clothes in the hamper. Or at least one of the two.
23. Moments of peace and quiet in the morning.
24. Those times wandering into Target hand in hand.
25. Those times wandering into Target alone even though they're just getting a couple things.
26. Flowers picked from the garden even though they were the tulips that just opened.
27. To give pep talks and rule reminders in the 5 minutes before their child is dropped off.
28. To carefully switch the cards in Candyland so the go almost back to the start one is never drawn.
29. Swaying back and forth while talking with others even after they are no longer holding the baby.
30. Family pictures even though only a portion of the kids are even looking at the camera.

Moms hope...
31. For the best for their kids.
32. That the coffee doesn't run out in the morning.
33. That they are making a difference.
34. That the baby will sleep at least 3 hours in a row at night.
35. For the day when they don't have to race behind the bike trying to balance it up.
36. That not everyone will get sick at once.
37. That there is enough hot water left for their shower.
38. That they get a shower.
39. For the perfect garage sale where they don't have to barter and prices are clearly marked.
40. That after 3 weeks of choosing the same video that their four year old changes their selection.

Moms are brave...
41. Every time they muster the courage to keep trying.
42. Every single time they get behind on laundry folding and then spend the next 4 hours folding.
43. When they say no to the dishes and yes to reading.
44. Every single time they go on Amazon Prime.
45. When they let the kids do a makeover on them.
46. When they say yes to the no mess and easy clean up fingerpaint.
47. When they invite their unexpected guest in, smile, & don't apologize for the real life living mess.
48. Anytime they start the whole potty training cycle.
49. Every morning. Every breakfast. Every noon. Every snack time. Every dinner. Every night.
50. Every single day of the year. Now stand up, take a bow, and salute mothers.

Onward Brave Mother!

How about you? What would you add to the list of amazing talents of a mom?

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

dear mom with her head in her hands {who needs a bit of encouragement}

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Tue, 07 May 2013 13:04:00 +0000

Dear sweet mom with her head in her hands wondering if she's a good mom or if she's making a difference or who is simply overwhelmed with life and mothering or who is worn from the crazy perceived motherhood ladder of competition or who maybe wishes for just a let me drink my coffee in peace moment of quiet or just simply needs encouragement.

This letter is for you.

For you, the tired or worried or overwhelmed or sweet mother who just needs a break. For you, the mother, who at this moment in time needs a reminder, a breath, in the midst of this very busy motherhood journey. For you, today, to read, and to remember that all of those days of pressing on and moving forward and making sandwiches and wiping down the sink and buckling seatbelts and doing those simple, yet sometimes forgotten, little things makes a life difference.

But, even though deep down we know we make a difference, it's easy to forget the power in the mother moving onward especially if at this time, or sometime in the day or within the week, you've had that moment where you simply sank to the floor and put your head in your hands. I know that feeling. Yesterday, as the May sun set, I slid to the floor in my older boys room and sat there with my head in my hands and tears in my eyes. I wish I could tell you that I had a reason to be sitting there like that - but really - honestly I was just overwhelmed with I'm not sure what.

Maybe it was the rooms that were just cleaned that were messy. Or the parenting battle and the constant corrections. Or the bickering between kids that haven't been able to go outside that much this spring. But no matter what, it was one of those days where the tears glistened in my eyes and I was feeling done.

Like I was failing a bit at motherhood.

And you? Do you have those days? Those days where the picture of your motherhood journey looks nothing like you imagined? Those are the days where the living room is a mess and there are slammed doors and spills and defiant kids and you've run out of diapers or wipes and you don't have anything besides macaroni and cheese for dinner and you're late for a class and you have work to do and now, just now at that moment, the cry of mom grates on your nerves and doesn't sound anything like the sweet sound that you imagined it to be.

Do you feel that way? Are your hands sometimes holding up your weary mothering head?

If so - today - today I salute you for pressing on in the midst of those days. I honor you. I honor the giving of self in a world that sometimes feels like no one sees you. I honor the moments where you took that big breath in, rediscovered your resolve, and sat down to a child who has been testing you all day and looked them in the eyes and told them that you loved them. I honor you.

Now, if you start to shake your head and tell me that you don't deserve that and tell me all the times you messed up I will simply tell you that I mess up too. And so does the other mother reading this article right now. And so do mothers on the other side of the world. You and I and everyone messes up. There is no perfect, no has it all together, no never makes a mistake, no sitting in the room with your head in your hands in defeat kind of mom.

Let the has it all together at all times even at three am after getting not an ounce of sleep and the kids are puking but she's still cheerful mom illusion go. And if you're having trouble with that read this dear mom letter from mid April - dear not so perfect but very real mom.

Instead, today, today as you sit there wondering what to do next, I want you to remember how powerful a story the real mom really can be. You are a real mom. The mom with spit up on the shoulder or dirt on the knees from playing in the sandbox on a chilly spring afternoon instead of cleaning the dishes. You are the mom who stayed up late working on a science project about gravity and running to Walmart late at night for supplies. You are the mom who was content to try to sleep in the rocking chair with a colicky baby who wouldn't let you put her down even for a moment. You are the mom who hears your name called a million times infinity times a day and even though sometimes you reply back no one call my name for 28seconds please you still answer and still give of your self.

The head in the hands moments are normal. They're the time that you and I get to regroup. And sometimes, sometimes it is needed. Sometimes we need that grace to sit there and pray and think and try to remember that we matter. We lose that in the midst of the everyday - in the middle of playing cars and cleaning books and running to the store and tying shoes and wiping counters and pushing on swings and folding socks and remembering what a direct object is and buckling in car seats and all of that. You do matter. Your mothering that you do every single day matters.

I love you mom.

Those were the words of my seven year old across the room to me on that day when I sat on the floor against a wall that needed repainting with my head in my hands.

You are loved dear mom. Maybe you don't feel it now. Maybe you don't remember it. But, when one gives of self it is to be honored. Loved. I love that you are brave and keep on going even on the days when you have to put your head in your hands. And remember this - no one gets through life without those moments. They don't define you. They strengthen you.

It is powerful to stand up from overwhelm and to keep pressing forward. It is powerful to keep on loving even when you are met with resistance. It is powerful to admit that one doesn't have it all together and that mistakes are made, but instead of letting them define self letting them be something that you learn from. It is powerful to be a mom. That is an amazing thing - a life giving honoring beautiful thing - and that is what you, right now, are in the midst of living.

So today, or tonight, or when ever you are reading these words of mine I want you to remember that you are not alone. You are in a group of women called mothers and we all stand up and cheer you on as you love on that family that is blessed to call you mom.

Onward, brave mother. You can do it. Brush the tears away, do one thing, and press onward with all of the braveness that you can muster. You are making a difference in this world. Let me tell you that again - you are making a difference in this world. You, right now, who had the moment of doubt, now needs to brush that away and to start to see and remember all of the awesome things that you accomplish every day.

You are brave. Amazing. Giving.

A real mom.

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a voice for mothers. compassion.

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Mon, 06 May 2013 15:16:00 +0000

The tears rolled from my cheeks. Heavy, thick sobs that could no longer be hidden as my body shook with each contraction. There wasn’t much space to breathe, nowhere to escape, and the emotion of the moment caught up with me…

....I wonder about those mothers that I see on the Compassion site. I wonder about them laboring and if the tears fell just like mine, rolling down their faces and forming puddles on their shirts.

I wonder about the times when they open their doors and welcome children in and become mom and don’t worry about the food to provide but rather open their hearts and homes. I wonder about the mother of the little one at the top of the Compassion Blog, drinking water – safe water – from the faucet.

Today, I am honored to be over on the Compassion Blog sharing about Mother's Day and writing an essay that gives tribute to mothers of the world. I am passionate about Compassion's mission and their heart for children. Please take a moment and read my post on their site and then consider sharing it with others. Together we can be a voice for these mothers and these children and help bring awareness to the many living in real poverty.

How Can We Be A Voice for Mothers?

image courtesy of compassion

I beyond blessed by this opportunity to be a voice, to share my heart, and to step out of the box of comfort and think about mothers raising children all over the world in different circumstances and in poverty. It was humbling to think of life, and of mothers, in a perspective that moved away from the often taken for granted conveniences of my own life. In fact, I related the story of when Samuel was in the hospital with influenza and how numerous times doctors told me how children died from influenza (and other illnesses) in third world countries every single day because they didn't have access to medical care like we did.

Compassion changes the lives of children. It opens doors, protects them, helps give access to medical care, and gives opportunities where there are often none. Today, take a minute and remember those mothers and those children. You can make a difference in their lives.

Finally, I teamed up with the Compassion Bloggers Network for this post. Learn how you can use your voice in the blog-o-sphere to help children in poverty and join me in posting a tribute for mothers in poverty.

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

the current of time {why motherhood means embracing it}

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Fri, 03 May 2013 13:48:00 +0000

My heart was skipping nervous beats. It reminded me of childhood when the nerves of excitement before a birthday would happen and I'd sit in my school desk waiting for the moment when I would get to share those homemade birthday treats so lovingly made by my mother. But, this time I was the mother in the story waiting.

It was me, in the car, driving down the interstate and passing the Ikea store that I'd normally love to swerve off the road for and grab just a couple things and pulling off in the freaky winter snow in May on the exit to the airport.

My girls were coming home.

They left nine days prior. Last week, as I sat in my home knowing my girls were over a thousand miles away, I sat there and I wrote about the motherhood brave and embracing those moments of letting them go. I wrote about how it just feels like I took a breath in and by the time I exhaled I looked and in my home were no longer little PowerPuff loving girls but rather young, beautiful adults.

Now, once again, there I was walking into the airport to find my daughters - those girls that I trusted and was proud of and sent off on a plane high above the earth - they were coming home.

I knew they were the ones that were brave. They were the ones who went through security and checked their bags and remembered their pleases and thank yous and packed up their clothes and said their goodbyes and stepped a bit farther from home in those days in Maryland.

They grew up just a bit in those nine days.

And my mother's heart, that brave portion of heart that all of us mothers have, got to grow with them. Letting a bit of the little girls - little ones nestling in my arms and those who would twirl in dresses in the yard and play with Polly Pockets and love to ride their bikes racing down the hill - grow and fade away into the beautiful memories caught in the pictures of time. Those are the pictures that dot my wall - off toothless girls and little ballerinas and girls laughing with Spiderman at Universal Studios and loving on their little newborn brothers who are now almost ten and eight - that make me sigh and remember.

It's those treading water days of motherhood mixed into those memories that we paste into scrapbooks and look at and wonder where the little girls went. Oh, I remember the I hate you's yelled over silly things and the slammed doors and the messy floors and the fits over doing work and yet even with those treading water days I don't have those moments on my wall and in my heart. Those aren't the definers of motherhood - they're just part of the fabric and part of what was dealt with in the current of never stopping time.

But the memories? Oh the memories are thick and abundant and vivid. I remember the time putting Christmas ornaments up on the tree. Or how the little girls and I pushed snowballs into big piles and pushing a carrot in to make a nose. The times spent in the room doing the annual clothing switch as big piles of too smalls and not favorites grew. The sweet moments rolling cookies out on the counter in winter. And I really remember those being brave moments - the first time to class, riding a bike, singing in church, going to a friends - those moments that we shared together in life.

We're here!

The simple text comes in and with it a breath of relief that my girls were now there under my care once again. As I send a text back to those little girls grown I wander over the skybridge to the terminal with that eager heart waiting to bask in the excitement of their trip. And in that moment I look up and see two girls, two older girls, exiting the terminal through security and for a split second I didn't recognize them. Standing tall. Laughing. Excited. Pulling their luggage with the carry on stacked on the top.

Brave.

And then Chloe catches my eye and in that moment, that moment of motherhood brave whooshes out of me and I run those last steps to hug on my girls. Oh how I missed them. I missed them something fierce and in those days of missing of them, and being brave and being willing to let them go, they were allowed to grow.

We missed you mom.

It was the same words that they whispered to me after preschool classes those so many years ago. It was the words that Hannah would tell me after she told me she ran out of the kisses behind her ear that I would leave for her before kindergarten. It was the same words those now older girls, those women to be, told me after youth camp.

Motherhood brave.

It's that letting go and embracing those past moments but loving who those littles are becoming. Those moments matter. It's in recognizing the tension of time and knowing that no matter what and how hard you are treading water that you are still moving and they are still growing. It's in stopping just for a moment and looking around and being absolutely thankful for those imperfectly beautiful moments tucked in normal.

It felt like yesterday, simply yesterday when the journey started, and here I am in the years of releasing them to swim and tread water on their own. And while it's brave for them it's also brave for me.

Embrace today. Even in the treading water moments that sometimes make you want to throw in the towel of motherhood. Just breathe.

There will come a day when my girls will walk out my front door and hug me and tell me that they love me and I will cheer them on. And that day will come for you and all the mothers in the world. Those are the moments that all the motherhood brave moments piled upon each other will come to a focal point and the letting go will happen.

I know it's coming. I know it.

So for now I sit in the juxtaposition of years gone by and the embracing of the now and the excitement for the future. Breathe deep, dear mothers, breathe deep. Rock those babies, sing the songs, read the extra books, play baseball in the back, take them for ice cream, listen to their stories, applaud for their singing, and keep on treading water.

Motherhood is amazing. And it is so most incredibly brave.

*********
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ten things to remember on the busy & crazy motherhood days.

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Thu, 02 May 2013 14:42:00 +0000

Words to remember for those feeling like one is drowning in dishes and counting out fruit snacks so they are fair kind of days. These are the days when the baseball gloves are left in the rain and the important notes about the dentist weren't written on the calendar and you're thinking of putting yourself in time out. Or at least putting everyone in the van and driving to Starbucks and ordering a very large latte and chatting for way too long with the barista just because you need to hear an adult voice and it's okay that it's just about the weather.

These are ten things to remember for that crazy, yet still somewhere very beautiful, motherhood pull out your hair kind of days that are really just a bit of normal.

1. See what you did do. Remember on those days when you realize your shirt was on backwards and you went to the grocery store and the kids were fussing to see the fact the you actually went to the grocery store, said no to the cheap plastic toys on the other side of the cereal aisle, said yes to the extra bag of apples, and managed to safely steer the large cart with the blue police car thing in the front that you carefully wiped down with the antibacterial wipes and if you didn't letting yourself not care without taking down the display of chips. You may cross this off of your to-do list. Twice. Start seeing all the things you do well and did accomplish.

2. Take care of you. Remember that even though coffee or tea is most often thought of for the morning it is still acceptable to brew yourself a big hot cup of caffeine during the four o'clock hour which is also known as the everyone melt down at once and let's throw a tantrum on the floor because mom said no to more veggie straws hour. Bottom line? It's not about coffee or tea - it's about remembering to take care of you in the midst.

3. Do not compare. On this day, this is the day when you will ignore facebook status updates, looking at cute family pictures where the kids are matching and smiling at the camera, browsing fabulous instagram shots of clever and creative meal ideas that used the leftovers in the pantry, and the whoa I feel like I don't measure up but I really know that not everyone does all this stuff boards of pinterest. Unless you're looking for motivational quotes - then proceed to type in mother quotes and I'm sure you'll remember how much you matter or will for sure get to laugh about the joys of motherhood. Remember that comparison is the death of contentment.

4. Embrace normal. This is the day to embrace your messy sink and to remember that it isn't a sign of failing but is rather the sign of a family that lives in your home and is blessed with food to eat and dishes to put it on and that you all together will get a lesson on home economics later as you clean up that messy sink. This is the day to call a friend and encourage her as well and to cheer the messy sink and pictures that are not ever perfectly straight normal moments in life.

5. Use Your Resources. Nick Jr, Disney Jr, and Netflix are not enemies - they are friends that can be managed well. This is the day to allow yourself the grace to push that green on button, turn on Doc McStuffins or old Arthur reruns or a Winnie the Pooh movie, and to sit on the worn couch with your kids and to just rest. At this moment it is also acceptable to simply close your eyes for a bit and sneak in a very short nap. Maybe the resources aren't media and are instead the swingset in the backyard, but the point is to use what you have around you to give you the energy to keep on going.

6. Keep your stock in chocolate. This is the day where you understand the real meaning behind the emergency supply of hidden chocolate. Just make sure you have several hidden in case one was found. There is no guilt in chocolate - it is a gift that I often think was made just for moms. And remember if you deplete the supply of chocolate that you must immediately add it to the shopping list so that it can be restocked.

7. Give yourself grace. On this day, you may let the routine go and choose to go to the park or swing in the backyard or simply read books on the couch and let go of the playdates, things on the schedules, or other plans. Giving yourself a break matters. Giving yourself grace matters more. On this day you may come home from work and let some of the stuff from your schedule go and choose to instead just to be with your kids or order take-out or to let the messy sink go until the morning.

8. Remember you are needed. As you hear the constant cries for mom and I need help and get me bread (and you reply with what do you need to add?) and what is for dinner and where are my favorite pink pants and all of that this is the day where you need to take those voices and cries and lock them into your brain as an example of how incredibly needed you are. And then, count to ten, and carry on impressing them with your skills to immediately find what they thought for sure was forever lost.

9. Remember that motherhood is for the truly brave. You will keep marching forward even though it might just mean marching down to the laundry room and switching the loads or marching into the kitchen to help wash sticky hands. This is the day for the Onward Brave Mother Onward cry to be heard. In fact, write it down now and put it on your fridge as a reminder of how truly brave mothers are and that you are not alone.

10. Celebrate your Motherhood Journey. On the days when everyone wakes up early and you went to bed late and you're feeling a bit behind and there is no coffee in the house this is the day that you need to remember that you are not alone and that there is a beautiful and full earth of mothers who are doing the same thing. This is the day to remember that I Love You Forever Book (and not if you are one of those that doesn't like the book simply choose another book) and to read it to your children and to let the words celebrating motherhood sit in your heart. This is the day to be proud of you and your motherhood journey even if it isn't perfect. Remember real journeys are most often not perfect, but are filled with up, downs, and moments of beauty.

So dear mothers, mothers at home or at work or in the car or at the doctor's office or on the rocking chair reading looking for some words, this is the day, as you pull up your motherhood boot straps and breathe in a big deep breath of hope, that you get to remember the strength found in you.

You are a hero.

A sipping coffee, eating chocolate, brushing snarly hair, making dinner, cleaning up peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, stacking Jenga blocks, pushing the swing in the backyard, driving to classes, crying a bit behind the bathroom door, believing in what you do really matters, real authentic mom hero in the midst of a busy and crazy motherhood day.

For more encouragement read:
Why Moms are Heroes.
Dear Weary Mom Who Needs a Bit of Encouragement

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

why speaking about celiac disease matters

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Wed, 01 May 2013 12:37:00 +0000

May is National Celiac Disease Awareness Month. And, as you know, I am passionate about Celiac Disease Awareness and being a voice in this world for those with this disease. For those people, including my three year old son, Samuel, eating gluten free is not a trend.

Eating gluten free is a matter of life.

And so today, because I am passionate about bringing awareness I will share with you just a bit of his story. And I ask that you share with others his story because that would bless not only me, but many other moms and dads out there with little ones who are suffering from this often underdiagnosed disease. My dream? To speak in front of doctors, nurses, nutritionists, companies, and researchers and to show these pictures and to share Samuel's story. Because in sharing, there is hope, there is health, and there is life again.

This was Samuel.

And as I've written so many times before - I absolutely hate this picture. This picture makes me cry, makes me wonder how I didn't see how sick he was, it makes me mad that he was dismissed, but this picture must not be forgotten. This is the picture that reminds me of the power of being a voice for these children. This is the picture two days before Samuel was admitted to Children's Hospital when my friend Amy and I boldly walked into the ER and told them that this boy was critically ill. This is the picture of a toddler with Celiac Disease.

He was starving.

You see, for an individual with Celiac Disease their body is unable to absorb nutrients well. Why? Because gluten - which is a protein found in wheat, barley, rye, and sometimes oats - literally destroys the teeny villi that line the intestinal tract. Those villi, those hairs, are what absorbs nutrients from food and converts it to what the body needs. Without those working, the person starves. And this is another photo that I hate, but won't get rid of. That was him. In pain. Weak. Needing answers.

That was Samuel. Starving even though he was eating. In fact, in the weeks prior to his admission to the hospital he could barely stay awake, he fell over when walking, had the worst diaper rash imaginable (when we were in the hospital wound care had to tend it), was bleeding, and basically was fading away. And we were told he was sick because he was number seven in a big family. Let me repeat that. I was constantly told that the reason he was sick, constipated, bleeding, not staying awake, and more because he was in a big family and exposed to more germs. He was sick for nine months prior to diagnosis. I went to the ER with a two page 10pt typed record of every single time he was sick with every single symptom.

He didn't match the adult symptoms. He was a child.

The Celiac Disease test is a simple lab draw initially. Do you realize that it takes eight visits on average for a child with Celiac Disease to be diagnosed? Now, keep in mind that this is eight visits with a sick child. With a mother wondering what is wrong with her little one. Undiagnosed Celiac Disease can lead to type 1 Diabetes, lymphomas and other cancers, other autoimmune diseases, and even death. While that is rare in our society, bear in mind that one hundred years ago or so before there was the Celiac Disease diagnosis parents would see their children unable to absorb nutrients and starve. And that is because the child literally faded away in front of your eyes.

My Samuel was fading.

I know it. And that picture? That is within the week of his diagnosis. That picture was the first picture I have of him where I knew the battle that I was to fight. That picture brings me hope because it was the beginning of life being returned to my little boy. This is the picture on my Celiac Disease bracelet because it is the start of life.

And that is why I fight so hard to bring awareness about this disease. We test for numerous other diseases in our children, and yet this disease is often missed. It shouldn't be that way - it should be on the radar of doctors and be included in the thought process when a child presents with chronic gi issues. For my Samuel it got so bad that his entire immune system became compromised. He was sick often and simply could not fight off infection well anymore. Even now, even after eating gluten free, his immune system is still weaker. However, despite that, he is now thriving like a three year old should. Here's the truth - someone with Celiac Disease can never eat gluten as it destroys those villi. But, despite that, you can live a full, joyful, and great food tasting life.

Celiac Disease is not an allergy. It is an autoimmune disease. And it needs to be taken seriously.

So please, remember that picture of Samuel from before and now look above at the picture of him now. Full of life. Full of never eating gluten but absorbing food and thriving life.

A lab draw. That's the screening.

If this post helps one more child then I am thankful. Be a voice with me. Please.

*****

To read more of my posts on Celiac Disease please click the tab about Celiac Disease above. Please also know that I am not a doctor and this is my story with Samuel and it cannot be substituted for medical advice. If you are wondering if you have Celiac Disease - see your doctor. Do not eliminate gluten prior as the lab test is dependent upon gluten being in your system.

Also, consider joining me on the Udi's Gluten Free Community Boards where I help to facilitate discussion about gluten free living. I am so honored to be a voice for them, and consider this time spent there a great gift. Also join me this Friday, May 3 1pm ET for a live chat on the Udi's Boards discussing Celiac Disease.

To read more facts please read Celiac Awareness Month by the National Foundation for Celiac Disease, Celiac Disease Info via Wikipedia, FAQ's at Celiac Center, and the University of Chicago's Celiac Disease Center.

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

treading water motherhood days

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Tue, 30 Apr 2013 14:20:00 +0000

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Those were the words my swimming teacher would shout from the pool deck at me, the lanky kid in the blue swimcap with too much hair stuffed in, as I attempted to keep my head above water. I was shown how to move my arms and kick my feet and was told to tread for two minutes to pass to the next level. I'd kick and move my arms and sputter in this as they called it buttering the bread motion and I'd wonder when it would ever be done. I wanted to do the diving, or doing the crawl stroke races, and here we spent so much time just working on the skill of treading water. Two minutes felt like forever as I bobbed in the middle of that always way too cold water during those mid winter swimming lessons.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

And so it is often with motherhood.

When the kids were all littles the days would smoosh together in this gigantic treading water blur. I'd wake up and do the same thing, back and forth, over again and again and again. It felt like sitting in the same spot, not moving, and so often was this battle to just keep my head above water. Or at least laundry.

Are you there right now? In those treading water days of motherhood?

Those are the days of dirt under the fingernails and skinned knees and sunburned necks in the middle of April. They are the days of reading the same book again and again and enforcing the media rule even though you'd just like another hour of quiet. They are the days of not having any sleep and wearing pajamas and working and trying to make dinner with leftovers. They are the days of getting up and doing the same thing again and listening to the same whine again and dealing with the same battle from the three year old over which shirt to wear.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

I wonder how many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I've made. I wonder how many pairs of pants and shirts and underwear and mismatched socks I've folded. I wonder about the times I'd driven to the store to buy wipes. I wonder how many books I've read and noses I've wiped. And in that wonder I've realized that those basic, everyday things, often are the treading water days of motherhood.

We get worn and tired and need to know that unloading the dishwasher again matters. Or that it's okay that we just decided to have a pajama day. Or that sometimes, sometimes this whole motherhood journey feels a great deal like that treading water lesson I learned many many years ago.

But, I also learned years ago in those swimming lessons in the junior high pool, that the more you practice treading water the stronger you become.

You, brave mother, who is treading water, is gradually becoming stronger. And the thing with motherhood is that even though you may be treading water you are caught in the current of time. You're not staying in the same spot and the time that you have today will be different from the time tomorrow from the time next year. Motherhood, even though we're treading water so much of the time, is still moving forward.

Being brave. Hugging them when they wake up. Kissing the owie and making it better. Sitting outside the fitting room waiting for what feels like hours as they try to find the perfect pair of shorts. Zipping through Starbucks and buying them a frappuccino. Combing the hair and zipping up coats.

Here's the truth - someday our feet will touch the ground again and we'll be able to sleep and catch our breath and we'll be able to see our motherhood journey. You will see all the beauty in those back and forth treading water days. And you will see your strength.

Today, if you're in the midst of what feels like a treading water day of motherhood, I want you to take a quick breath, because that is what you do when you are treading water, and look around and see the many mothers who are with you in this journey. I want you to celebrate your strength and all the times where you did things well. Remember like yesterday when I asked you to describe motherhood to me? Your story? Well, again, today, today I want you to celebrate those beautiful things that you do in the midst of the treading water days. And maybe, maybe it is simply that you are content to tread water, to do the same thing, to love on those kids, and to celebrate this part of your journey.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Motherhood. It is an exercise in strength. In tenacity. In treading water. And it is beautiful.

Bless a friend today with the beauty of knowing that the treading water days are truly the brave strength building days of motherhood. Onward, brave mother, onward.

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

dear mom this is the real mom sketch

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 12:55:00 +0000

If you and I were together right now and I asked you to describe you as a mother, what would you say?

I'm sure you've seen those powerful Dove Real Beauty videos that are circulating. They're the ones where women are asked to describe what they look like to a forensic artist who then renders an image of themselves. The image created is much harsher than what the woman really looks like - as she's quick to point all the flaws and things she doesn't like about herself. At the same time another woman describes the same initial woman to the forensic artist. The image created now is softer, more empowering, and more beautiful as the other woman sees more of the good and not the hypothetical flaws in the first woman. As a result, the images are incredibly different. What struck me was how others see ourselves better than we see our own selves.

What about motherhood?

What if you and I sat on my much too worn back deck with the stain that is peeling off in big chunks and what if I asked you to describe to me you as a mom? What if I asked you to tell me about your days with your kids? What would you tell me?

Chances are, that if you're like me, you'll start by telling me all the things that you don't like, didn't do right, and where you're feeling like you're failing. I'd list you so many things - the time I snapped because the cereal was spilled all over the just swept kitchen floor and I'd tell you that I wish I didn't get frustrated because it was just them trying to be helpful but I saw work. I'd tell you about the times when I got irritated over the laundry piles, the sassing back, and the constant work. I'd tell you that my family room floor needed to be vacuumed so please don't come down there. I'd tell you that the little boys room was a mess again. I'd tell you that I didn't read those books. Again.

It's so easy to see where we feel like we're failing. You and I and all of those mothers out there can easily pinpoint our flaws.

But, chances are again, if I was sitting there with you and I observed you mothering your children I would see all the things and areas where you are awesome. I would see how patiently you helped that five year old tie their shoes. I'd see the cute projects sitting on your refrigerator. I'd see all the stuff that you probably dismiss as just those normal things of motherhood.

We're so hard on ourselves.

We see ourselves with such a critical lens and often we see everyone else with these lenses of grace.

Do you know that on my post Dear Sweet Mom Who Feels Like She is Failing that many women emailed in and thanked me for putting a picture of my messy sink on the blog? That's because that messy sink is real. And it's not a sign of failing. Yet, if you and I were sitting on my deck on those plastic chairs that I wish I could replace, I'd probably tell you about that messy sink and how I felt like it was an area where I fell short because we don't really share the messy sink moments in life.

The messy sink is normal mothers.

If you and I are real with each other we'd realize that we need to stop seeing the messy sink as a sign of not measuring up, but rather a sign of normal. It's actually just part of motherhood. The sink gets cleaned, the dishes away, and we do it again. Just like laundry, spills on the floor, and the day to day stuff of motherhood.

What if we saw that instead? What if you and I started to look at our own lives with the same filter with which we look at other's lives? What if we celebrated that the messy sink doesn't stay? And that we have a family that provides those messy dishes that need to be put away? What if we celebrated the things that sometimes we're so hard on ourselves to see as not measuring up?

Does your heart need just a bit of that grace? Of that hope? Of that feeling of not measuring up or I'm failing to dissolve and fade away? That's the beauty of the real mom beauty sketch.

Today, today I want you to start seeing yourself with a lens celebrating every single thing that you do. I want you to start celebrating you and your motherhood journey this way. I know, I know, it is is easy to compare and to instead of celebrating the craft projects on our neighbor's fridge we start to feel like we're not measuring up. It's the same with pinterest pins, facebook status updates, and clever tweets. Motherhood isn't about measuring up, sweet mother.

It's about wiping sticky fingers, letting them play in the mud, washing clothes, listening to stories about kings and dragons and knights. It's about helping them grow and drying dishes and going to bed exhausted wondering if what you're doing really makes a difference. It's about running behind a kite helping it to get in the air and combing snarls out of hair and blowing bubbles on the deck. It's about pulling up the boot straps and hoping you have enough energy to get through the day. It's about sneaking a nap in when they're sleeping and telling yourself that it's is the right thing to do - because it is. It's about feeling your heart burst with pride as the preschooler stands in front of a room singing and it's about that same heart aching as you hear about those days your child struggles.

Do you see those things? Do you see the beautiful everyday moments in your life?

I want you to see you the real you amazing mom as well.

I want you to see the good that you do. The times where you raced around and played. The times where you had just had enough but you still mustered the sweetest smile. The times when you gave the last sip of your coffee to the eight year old and made his day. The times where you fought for your child and called the other parent of the kid who was pestering yours. The hours in the car, the nights praying, the minutes in front of the stove cooking, the seconds spent wondering.

All of those adds up to this beautiful image of motherhood.

Don't let yours be distorted by seeing all the things you think are flaws. Start to celebrate the beauty. Yours looks different from mine from the mother in New Zealand reading to the mother reading on her iphone to the mother across my street. We're all different. Beautiful in our own motherhood ways.

Celebrate you. Your motherhood journey. Your accomplishments.

Those kids that are in your home don't care what I'm doing really. They care about you and love you. They love you. To them, you are beautiful. You are mom.

My real beauty mom sketch? It's of the real mother.

And that mother is you.

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

thirty-five powerful ways to be

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 12:58:00 +0000

Simple mindset statements that are powerful ways to live. Be blessed. ~Rachel

Be bold.

Be kind.

Be loving.

Be aware and awake.

Be intentional.

Be joyful.

Be authentic.

Be empathetic.

Be understanding.

Be a dreamer.

Be learning.

Be giving.

Be a listener.

Be positive.

Be helpful.

Be approachable.

Be genuine.

Be brave.

Be real.

Be creative.

Be the change.

Be determined.

Be rooted.

Be balanced.

Be good to others.

Be compassionate.

Be purposeful.

Be forgiving.

Be strong.

Be inspiring.

Be generous.

Be loving.

Be wise.

Be a voice.

Be you.

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

*******

for those of you wanting to share your friday favorite links feel free to add below. This is week 111 of intentional - focused - loving the little things- finding joy gratitude.

onward brave mother onward

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 15:15:00 +0000

The snow, that late April snow, was almost gone except for a patch tucked underneath the pine trees where the sun rarely shines. It's that spot that once it's free of snow we all know that spring is finally here to really stay. The day was morphing into one of those beautiful late April days except for the absence of the buds on the trees. And I saw him, a boy, not much older than my boys in his boy scouts uniform running from door to door across the soggy spring yards and placing a handout on the doors.

And then I saw his mother, following on the road in a large suv, watching him bravely run.

Life is full of analogies of bravery. Of growing up, of letting go, and of doing the things we need to do to empower our children and also ourselves. It's that onward, brave mother, onward cry that I love and that I feel that we need to hear again and again.

He ran up my front porch steps, up to my deep rust colored door that I worked so hard to get just right in the paint section at Lowes while the paint mixer man chuckled as I held sample upon sample in different light, and placed that handout on my door. And as he did I caught his mother's eyes in that suv in the road and we just nodded. It was the motherhood agreement nod of thanks for backing me up and supporting my kid kind of nod. It's that we're side by side in this journey, and even our lives our different, we share that bond of being a mom.

It's about tenacity, support, and thanks for what we're doing. As I watched that suv pull behind those thick snow at the base pine trees my heart welled up with pride for what we do as moms. She was out driving super slowly watching her son run to the doors right during the what's for dinner cry time. It was support and that I believe in you and let's get it done even though I'm guessing there are dozens of things left to do.

Moms, you do that, and it's really an amazing thing. Do you realize that? Do you realize that when you do those simple gestures? Those giving of self moments? Yesterday when I wrote about motherhood brave I had no idea the response that it would receive - and yet, now, as I sit here I'm overwhelmed with the words of support from others who echo the words about not wanting to do motherhood alone.

Motherhood is such an exercise in bravery in the middle of normal. It's bravery in extreme challenges and hardships. It's bravery to let them go, to do their thing, and to believe in them. It's bravery to wake in the morning and to pull up the motherhood bootstraps (or in my case pulling on the yoga pants) and to start again and again and again. It's bravery.

Sometimes the idea of bravery gets morphed into those grandiose ideas - those moments like the other day when I watched my girls cross that jetbridge onto that plane - and while those are the test of bravery, it's the everyday things that build up to give us the strength in those moments. I think of the sweet moms who have messaged me, emailed me, and left comments. I think about how they feel overwhelmed in the everyday and wonder if it makes a difference. It's that pit of exhaustion, working two jobs, trying to manage a household, and pay bills, and still be intentional, and worry if you're doing it right kind of wonder.

Let me tell you, just as I reply to those emails, what you are doing, even when your head is in your hands in the feeling of defeat, it all matters. Society doesn't give many awards for mom - we've got Mother's Day, but honestly that day stresses me out more than it makes me rest - so we need to embrace each other on the journey. Encouraging our friend to keep going, calling one up and letting them know you're thinking of them, and living an authentic life that recognizes the bravery of moms.

It's brave to admit that you're feeling overwhelmed and need help. It's brave to invite your friend in even if it's not perfect and to not let it define you. It's brave to work and work and work and to come home and to prep a dinner even when you're exhausted. It's brave to admit that you don't love every single second of motherhood and to keep trying. It's brave to decide to embrace the positive and to smile even though it's a hard day. It's brave to just keep moving and going and trying and loving on those kids.

This week it's been a celebration of moms, of you, the brave mom in the midst of the journey.

Onward, brave mother, onward.

I believe in you.

Bless a friend.
Share with them how proud you are of them in the midst of their own motherhood brave today.

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

those letting go days of motherhood. why moms are truly brave.

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 14:08:00 +0000

And then they were gone.

It was months in anticipation. Months of planning, skypes, excitement, and even last minute in the snow shopping trips to the Mall of America in late April. Which, in case you were interested, really does have an entire amusement park with roller coasters inside. And now, yesterday, after packing bags that were almost too heavy, I drove to the airport, went through security, drank some coffee, and then watched my two oldest daughters get on a plane and fly away.

That's what I want. I want them to be brave and to explore the world and to follow their dreams.

Even though the mothering part of me wonders how in the world it went so fast. No longer am I dropping them off at preschool and wandering back to the car with tears in my eyes but now I'm watching them take off in a 737 and I'm standing in the terminal with tears in my eyes. They need to do that. It's that growing up, I trust you, I believe in your dreams, you are amazing, and you need to be brave things that we as mothers must do.

It simply goes so fast.

Instead of working with basic math facts I'm watching flight tracker waiting for that fabulous text stating that "I'm here!" Sometimes I'll look back and the years spent mothering them and I'll immediately see all the mistakes and things I wish I had done and not see all the brave moments. I'll worry about the fact that we never went to Disney World or that we stopped these classes or I'll wish I had been more intentional or played more games or all of that stuff that us mothers worry about. I'll think about those things and miss the little things.

Intentional parenting is really not about spending every single second with your children. It's not providing them something to do and having days so structured that they move from event to event to event. In some ways, parenting with an intentional heart is this understanding that you are slowly letting them go. It's knowing that they must have opportunities to grow up, to learn, and to be deliberate in their thinking. It's being brave and bold even though sometimes we just feel like it's normal.

And mixed in that is this deep understanding that each day you're given is a gift. That's the heart posture. Each day might not be amazing - because honestly looking back at the stream of parenting years I'd have to admit that most days were just days - but even with that each day is a gift. Life is a gift.

So as I cheered when I heard that the plane landed I also cheered for myself. For the courage as a mother to let them go, to believe in them, to give grace, and to keep moving. And just like yesterday, I cheer you.

You may be just like me years ago sitting in the car as your three year old is dropped off at his class. That is brave. It's brave to let them go and let them grow. That matters. It's brave to decide to do each day well and to learn from the past but not let it cloud today. It's brave to get down on your knees and look in the eight year old's eyes and to tell them that you love them no matter what even after the hardest day ever. It's brave to look a pediatrician in the eyes and to ask him what's next. It's brave to stand behind the bathroom door, to brush the tears away, and to try once again. It's brave to just keep going even when you're tired, weary, and honestly just a bit tired of pouring cereal and milk.

Pouring cereal and milk? Don't overlook that. That's the fabric of motherhood. You start pouring it for them, then you teach them, then they do it on their own, and then you don't worry about them getting it because you've taught them how. A simple analogy, but the truth.

Now today, today as you bravely put one foot in front of the other and move forward remember that all those little things - the teaching of how to button the coat or how to run the laundry or picking up the toys or saying the please and thank you's or how to drive - all of those things build up together and empower your kids. They matter. They are the things that gives your kids the courage to scan their ticket and walk away from their mother standing in the corner with tears in her eyes and walk down a jetbridge onto a plane.

I brushed my tears and watched the plane holding just a bit of my heart take off into the sky.

Proud.

The little moments matter. The little things matter.

Moms are brave.

Onward brave mother onward!

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stretched thin motherhood days. celebrating the strength & resolve of moms

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 14:34:00 +0000

I feel... thin. Sort of stretched, like... butter scraped over too much bread.

Bilbo Baggins, The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien

She sat there, in the corner of the bustling coffee shops with order of grandes and ventis and talls around, with crying children strapped safely in a stoller, and she had her head in her hands with her eyes closed. I didn't notice till my caramel macchiato was called as I stood up to grab that grande cup of energy and happened to glance over to the crying noise of a toddler. She wasn't that noticeable, tucked in the corner, late in the afternoon, and if it wasn't for the cry of the toddler she might have vanished into the fabric of the coffee shop.

As I waited with my daughter Grace I mulled over what to do. Do I wander over and say an encouraging word, say a silent prayer, or ignore like everyone else in this place? Or perhaps, they too, in that second didn't notice and didn't simply see as they bustled through their own lives, agendas, and need for an extra boost of caffeine at 4pm. And in that very second of debate as we waited for the Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino to be finished (after all when you're twelve that's a favorite) I saw a deep breath, a breath of what I would like to determine was resolve but will never really know, and she stood up and pushed that large stroller that states that it's easy to push, but lets be real it's never really easy to push a large minivan around, and walk out of the store.

I don't know her story. But, in that moment, in that 93 seconds waiting at the Starbucks counter, I was reminded of the incredible resolve of motherhood.

I saw part of my story, part of the motherhood story, in that simply motion of moving forward. It was a poignant glimpse, a reminder to me of motherhood and the strength of women. Of those moments of the stretched thin days when the beauty of motherhood and the joy found in spreading peanut butter over bread while eager little faces wait for you to finish isn't as visible. Motherhood is so often this stretched thin like butter scraped over too much to do type of living. So much to do, so little of us, and we're trying to spread and spread and spread ourselves over everything and get it all accomplished.

Mom, where are my socks? Mom, I'm hungry. No, no, no, I don't want to wear that coat (and insert crumpling to the floor). Mom, I'm going to ask you another question. Why? How come? Why not? I don't want to do that. I'm not going! That's not fair. They got more. Negotiating. Baking. Cleaning. Cooking. Budgeting. No sleeping. Worrying. Praying. Trying. Busy, stretched thin, over butter moments in life.

I know it's bottom line a beautiful thing. I know there are moments in there that we absolute must embrace, remember, and savor. But, you and me, and the mother waking up across the world, we live an existence where there is often more to do then there often is of us.

Part of what I love about life, and the lesson in the Lord of the Rings, is that even though there is fear, the perception of little strength, feeling small, and an undaunting task and mission, that no one sat home and did nothing. That's you. That's motherhood.

We rise up. We make that breakfast while sipping our luke warm coffee (does anyone ever get it hot?). We pull out clothes and offer choices and negotiate with the three year old who only wants to wear the same shirt again and again. We pull the clothes from the washer and throw them in the dryer and we fold and fold and fold. We strap little ones into carseats with sticky straps and kiss the top of that forehead as we race to the next spot. We stay up late and rise early.

It's this resolve, this tenacity, tucked deep that sometimes we forget to recognize. But not today, not today, dear mother. Not today. Today, today I am recognizing you.

I am recognizing the fact that you stayed up late and slept on the floor in the toddler's room. I am recognizing the fact that even though you were late you stopped for just a moment and smiled goodbye to your children. I am recognizing the fact that even though you were hungry you gave the remaining cereal to the kids. I am recognizing the moments where you found resolve from somewhere and stood up and kept on going.

That is strength. Real life giving life embracing life honoring strength.

Motherhood is strength. It is determination. Resolve. Laughter. Love. Beauty. Moments of joy. Moments of intense frustration. Hope. Optimism. Giving of self. Giving of life. Endless vacuuming. Motherhood is being stretched thin beyond what one could ever imagine and going to bed with a heart that is full and remembering the laughter tucked in the day.

To those of you having a beautiful day - embrace it, be thankful for it, and live today fully. To those of you who feel the need to put your head in your hands - strength, love, and deep gratitude for what you do. To those of you in the midst of a normal uneventful day - may you see the little things, the moments, and laughter.

All of us mothers out there. All with beautiful stories uniquely woven.

Somehow the stretching thin is easier knowing that one is not alone, to know that others are journeying with us, and when we remember the value and beauty of our journey. You are not alone. We are rising up, pulling up our boot straps, slapping on the super hero cape of motherhood, and we're continuing on. Motherhood is a powerful testimony of the determination of women who even though they are stretched thin continue on.

I recognize your strength. In fact, I see it so clearly sometimes that I want to stand on the street corner and keep shouting to you that you are making a difference. You, right now, where ever you may be - at work at home in the car in bed in the laundry room in the doctor's office in the chair with your head in your hands - you are making a difference. Maybe it feels little, inconsequential, that it's just tedious, that it's the same thing over and over, that it's tiring - but I am telling you, I'm aching for you to hear - motherhood is not something small and little. It's a life thing. A stretching of self over too little toast but still winning, still thriving, still moving kind of thing.

Onward brave mother. Onward.

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ten mindset goals for moms

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 13:14:00 +0000

Simple goals for the week. They're not the kind of goals like get the kitchen cabinets washed and organize the spices (though, seriously, that needs to be done) and put the winter clothes away (again), but are rather more mindset kind of goals. Mindset is a powerful thing, it's that stepping back and recognizing that we're not our emotions, and that our vision is a powerful thing. Motherhood takes a great deal of setting of the mind - it's being able to see the bigger picture while embracing moments, recognizing that there are just normal days, and knowing that what we're doing makes a life impacting difference.

Here are ten of my mindset goals.

1. Pause before reacting. The past couple days have been a bit more stressful and I found myself last night reacting. Reacting to a situation, reacting to my kids, reacting to the fact that the family room was cluttered - basically becoming the cloud of negativity moving throughout the house (which, ironically, is what I just wrote about not being in this post - Ripple Effects) . Reacting is what gets me muttering about the fact that there are Lincoln Logs all over the floor and the dishes aren't done and that I have too much to do. Reacting, is what makes my mood the thermometer versus the thermostat. Remember that analogy from my friend Amy? The thermometer matches the tone of the house (or in my case the mood that I was in) and is based on outer circumstances. The thermostat sets the tone and chooses to remain there despite the outer circumstances. The goal in a a pause? It means setting the tone versus reacting.

2. Laugh. Smile. Kids needs to see us laugh and smile. It's easy to race through life, reacting to all there is to do, and forgetting the power in smiling. My kids love it when I start laughing with them. They'll tell me jokes, or do silly dances, or we'll watch a movie - they just want to see me laugh. There is tension relieving, perspective gaining, life is good type of power in laughing. Make it a goal. Let them see you smile at them - those real smiles that just speak about how much you love them. And let them hear you laugh. When we laugh it is really an expression of love and connection - that there is good in the midst of the ordinary.

3. Do one thing and do it well. As mothers we are the ultimate multitaskers at time. For example, I could decide I am going to go grab book from upstairs in my home. On the way up I'll notice the couple pieces of paper that needs to get thrown, grab them, grab the three pain inducing if stepped on legos that are also on the stairs, push the shoes over by the door, throw the pair of socks into the bathroom, and put away four extra books as I'm grabbing the one book out. We're amazing multitaskers. Amazing. But, I've also had to train myself to do whatever task that I'm doing well. With excellence and then move to the next one on my list. Finish the kitchen, do it well, and then move onto the next thing. This is what keeps movement on a to-do list - it's the focus, the laser approach to life.

4. Keep perspective. Ah, perspective. This wraps into the pause before reacting goal. When I lose perspective I react more. Perspective grounds, perspective reminds us that it is normal for there to be crayon marks on the table, milk spilled on the ground, laundry to fold, legos to be put away, children that bicker, nothing to make for dinner, and all of those very normal things. Losing perspective that those are normal will make laughter and smiles cease. So the goal is to keep perspective. This means reminding yourself every once in a while of the gift of normal. Write down some normal beautiful things in your life and put it on your fridge or in your wallet as a reminder during those times when life gets overwhelming.

5. Say Yes more. I've written series on this topic, and broached it again last week. No is often automatic. No is simpler, easy, and often involves less work. But, also, no will often mean missing out on sweet moments together. The relationship builder kind of moments - the reading of the book, making cookies, taking a walk kind of moments. Balance the no answers with the yes answers and the smiling and laughter will come easier. And this applies to not only our children but also to ourselves. It's easy for me to say no to coffee with a friend because I have a to-do list to finish. Or no to watching a show with my kids because there is laundry. Give yourself the grace of the yes as well.

6. Create space. Nothing pushes me to my own personal limits more than a schedule that is too full, a house that is messy, and a to-do list that wraps into several pages. When the space is constricted I'll say no more, I'll forget to laugh, and my perspective is lost. A goal of mine, and a goal I'd really recommend for you, is to begin to create space within your life for those breathing kind of moments. It's really hard, but often it is just giving yourself permission to sit down and read. Or to get coffee with a friend. Or to sit outside and watch your kids play instead of cleaning the yard and multitasking. Space is what refills our energy and uplifts our spirits. Work to create some.

7. Listen first. When I walk into a bedroom and all the organized toy boxes are dumped out and there are blankets strewn around and the bookshelf which was neat is now in a pile my first instinct is to react and to speak my opinion. My goal, when I keep that perspective, is to seek to understand first. Does it look like a mess to me? Yes, well, because it really was a mess. But, often that mess of things everywhere was the hours of work making this cool creative fort. So I've learned to ask questions and to listen before I respond. There is so much power in listening - we learn depths about people and about our children. Listening gives us a glimpse into another's heart. Listen first, seek to understand, and then speak. And yes, they can be words, like boys the forts awesome and amazing. I'm going to take a picture and then we're all going to work together to get this room clean again. ;)

8. Be authentic. In a world of labels, agendas, to-do's, pinterest boards, and expectations it needs just a bit more authenticity. Realness. Now, of course it's not that kind of realness where you come in a room and dump every single issue on the table to a group of friends. I'm talking about the kind of authenticity that is okay with opening the door to your home and not apologizing for the mess on the kitchen table, the dishes waiting to be done, and the fact that you're wearing your yoga pants. When we're apologizing for the real moments in life (After all we're living in the home) then we're in fact putting an unrealistic expectation on the relationship. It puts an expectation that everyone's home has to look like it pulled from a pinterest board and thus we have extended the idea that when we go to our friend's home it has to be almost perfect. Be authentic. Tell her it's been a crazy day, to ignore the dishes in the sink, show her the painting project, and invite her in. Authenticity builds relationships, creates trust, and creates breathing space in our lives.

9. Find Joy. Joy and happiness are so often interlinked, but fundamentally they are different. Happy is based on the external circumstances - if the house is cleaned, those moments of utter fun, when we're just having an awesome day - while joy is this deep posture of the heart that chooses to see the blessings, the gifts, and the moments tucked within a day that often isn't happy. There are challenging motherhood want to pull all your hair out days where the joy part seems elusive. We've had a ridiculous amount of snow here in Minnesota (in this longest winter ever) and it would be easy to sink into grumbling, frustration, and irritation over the snow. Well, trust me, I had some words about that snow. But, bottom line, I can't let an external like that dictate my mood - so I decided to rise above, to choose joy, and to look for the good. We made a snowman, my daughter Grace ran through the snow late at night, and decided to simply laugh about the snow. Look for joy. Not in every moment, but throughout your day. Joy is really gratitude for the little moments, the gifts that are embedded in the fabric of the day.

10. Practice gratitude. Practice it daily. The finding joy, authenticity, space, saying yes, and all of the other mindsets rest on the idea of being grateful. Again, it's not having to be grateful for every single moment just like being an intentional parent does not mean that you are doing something directly with your kids from the moment their feet hit the floor in the morning to when they go to bed. (It's not. More on that to come in the upcoming weeks). Gratitude is a discipline of being appreciative for the good in your life. Often gratitude takes work, it takes letting go of seeing all the things that didn't work and being willing to embrace all that did. Gratitude is what makes us thankful for the kids in that room with all of their crazy creativity versus simply sitting in frustration over a room that was clean perfectly the night before that now looks like a disaster. Gratitude is a powerful, life changing, joy building, authentic mindset. Practice it daily.

Ten goals, mindsets, that make a difference.

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little things matter. the ripple effect moments in life.

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 13:02:00 +0000

My friend Amy shared a story with me about the impact that we leave with others. It was a raw story, filled with emotion, about how the effect of our words and actions leaves a ripple effect in the lives of others. It was about a moment in time that won't be forgotten and about the effect actions a stranger had on her life. One encounter, and yet, a life of remembering it.

So often I race through life unaware of the ripple that I'm leaving. I'm short at the store. I respond to my kids with annoyance. I scowl as I drive down the road late. I ignore holding the door because I'm focused on my own agenda. I complain about all that isn't going well and miss seeing the good.

Ripple effects.

Deep down, I don't want to leave a trail of negativity. In fact, I write so much about joy and seeking it and actively finding it because in that is a posture of the heart that embraces the positive. This world is full of negative - from the news, to sickness, to financial situations, to relationships - that there needs to be an effort to live more positive. Awake, in a way. It's this recognizing of the fact that we're not in this world for ourselves. As soon as we begin to look at this world through the lens of just me then we lose the reality of the impact we have on the lives of others.

What if we held that door for that woman racing into Target? What if we smiled more when we paid for our coffee? What if we got to know the names of the baristas at Starbucks? What if we paid for the coffee for the person behind us? What if we helped bag someone's groceries who was trying to deal with a two year old? What if we intentionally said something kind to those we meet? What if our words were tempered with grace instead of cynicism? What if we instead of life focusing just on me it's more on we?

Little things matter.

There's a reason I write about the little things - it's because those little things are really the big things in life. They are often the start of the ripple. It's powerful when we become aware of the little things and begin to appreciate them with deserved appreciation. Those little things are the normal things - the moments in life that we overlook so often, but that truly does matter.

My challenge to you today? To look for the positive, the good in life, and to be a person that changes lives. Maybe it's in the little things - the simple smiles and sweet words - or maybe it's in a big dramatic way. You have the power, the choice, today to make a difference. I believe in you.

It can be in doing life and reading an extra book. It can be in giving our kids the benefit of the doubt. It can be thinking of the good in people first. It can be in simply being a person who listens. Those things matter - it's the power in the moment when you choose to look beyond just you and see the world full of people where so many just need a breath of grace or joy or I believe in you.

Look for the positive. You and I and the next person are truly blessed with each day that we are given to live. We're blessed with normal. We just need to remember it. Remembering that will set our minds - it will set the target. If our target is to be a generation of people that gives others grace and looks to the good then we are truly powerful. We'll have days where we mess up, oh my, I've got plenty. You can read my archives about failing, and when I forgot to say yes, and on and on and on. But, you can also know that my heart is about believing in people, believing in you, and empowering you and me to know that what we do every single day matters.

In a world of so much harshness it needs more good.

Make a choice today. Look for the good. Be positive. Give yourself grace.

It starts with you and me and then next person and the next.

Ripple.

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for those of you interested in linking your friday favorite things post simply add your link below. This is week 110 of simple intentional finding joy in the little things gratitude. Blessings!

A Motherhood Cheer. Why the late nights, laundry folding, & orange peeling moments matter.

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 14:58:00 +0000

I pushed my hair up out of my face, wishing I could find that elusive pony tail holder, and wandered into the kitchen getting ready to make that first cup of brain clearing wake up now coffee. It was just after six, and my Elijah was already awake as I think he wakes up at the very first sign of light. He's the one that decides that when he gets up that everyone should be up. He'll start talking loudly and wandering around making noise - he doesn't know about the move like a ninja trick that us moms know about in the wee hours of the morning. The dishes were behind again (I think I need two dishwashers), the prospect of snow in the forecast, and I was already getting bombarded with the mom cries.

Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM.

Brew coffee, brew. That was my cry.

That three minute Keurig Coffee Maker was feeling like it was taking about twenty minutes. As I stared at that red mini machine that I purchased for a deal after Christmas at Kohl's several years ago I thought about the list of everything to do on my list today. Laundry. Math. Taking the recycling out (yeah, it's on the list). Reading. Really, everyday, ordinary things that I've got on the list. And then there was the other stuff. Coffee date. Write two thousand words for my book. Finally move the bag of donate clothes from the door by the garage to the pile in the garage and actually call to have someone pick it up. That last step is often the hardest.

Mom. Mom. MOM.

I am literally a foot away from Elijah. I'm talking he's so close to me that I could start to count the hairs on that cute little head of his that often doesn't look as cute at 6:11 am. Sweet, early to rise, boy.

MOM. Can I play the ipod?

Here we go. Big pre-coffee sigh from me.

No, Elijah, it's morning right now and we don't play media in the morning.

And with that he crumpled to the floor and the day began. Before that three minute coffee was even brewed and my creamer added.

It's not too glamorous at times.

The ordinary beauty days are often covered under layers of to-do lists, mom cries, wiping up of spilled milks, expectations, not met expectations, and the desperate quest to find a pony tail to get that unruly hair back. Or, maybe that's just me. But, I don't think so. In fact, as I've been working on writing my book I've come to the realization that often times we feel very much alone in the motherhood journey and yet sometimes we don't really talk about the tough parts.

Like getting really frustrated when they keep asking for an orange and you've said no a dozen times and all of a sudden you have a child throwing a tantrum in the kitchen. Over an orange. Or how sometimes you secretly wish for just 36 seconds where you don't have any noise at all. Or that sometimes, and I love doing this, instead of putting the clothes in the dryer because you missed the time to switch it, you simply run the wash load again to buy yourself just a bit more time before the folding and putting away begins.

Motherhood is hard in the midst of the beautiful. Actually, let's reverse that - motherhood is beautiful in the midst of the hard.

We still have to work - we work at home, we work away from home, we work in the home. And we still have to deal with crumpling to the floor five year olds over not getting an orange or playing the ipod. And we still have all the things that we love to do and it's this balance of trying to accomplish it all within a world full of expecations, measure ups, and make sure you do this as well.

Sometimes I feel like I want to crumple to the floor too.

And sometimes I feel like I want to pin that superhero motherhood cape on my back and run down the street to the park and scream that today was an awesome and amazing day. Because those happen as well. But most days, most days are just those kind of days where we're dealing with the dominoes falling and people upset about oranges, and kids fighting over who had the red lego with the flame on the side first, and tantrums on the floor, and knock knock jokes repeated, and no one wanting to do math facts, and you waiting for your coffee (or tea) to brew.

And then every once in a while you get a glimpse of how extraordinary what you are doing when you count to ten and wait for the coffee to brew and peel the 321nd orange in your motherhood days truly is. You get that moment of stepping back and seeing you, seeing you give of your heart - bit by bit by bit - to these little people whose lives will forever be changed by you. Someday you'll remember how you sat on the couch and helped with a crossword and tried to figure out the words with your nine year old for cashews and almonds without giving the answer. You'll remember how you sat up at 2 am and rocked your three year old back to sleep after they had a bad dream. You'll remember.

But you might not see it now. You might not see the extraordinary in the ordinary that you do everyday. And that is normal. That is okay. You and I are in the midst of the journey. In the part of motherhood that is very much the hardest - where the finish line (which sometimes we wish wouldn't come so fast) isn't visible and there are a bunch of roads to climb and it's work and we're having to herd many along with us.

It's amazing what mothers do. It's amazing what you do.

So today, today I lift my cup of three minutes brewed coffee from my Keurig and I toast you, the amazing mother. I celebrate motherhood and in celebrating it I celebrate you.

Don't tell me all the times you didn't answer right, do it right, or where you wish you had done it different. I have those as well. But those don't define the extraordinary. Those are just bumps, bends in the road. It's the journey put together, the days woven together with tantrums over oranges and sweet moments of holding hands while walking that make a life.

Coffee mugs in the air. To motherhood and all of the beauty in the midst of ordinary.

Amazing.

Now, I'm off to peel another orange...and remember that cheer.

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light outshines darkness

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 13:11:00 +0000

This morning I read the news about the little boy who died in Boston as he went to hug his father who had just finished running the marathon. And my heart, my mothering, real person, believes in the good of humanity heart broke just a bit.

He was just a boy.

Last night my oldest daughters began wondering if that evil in Boston could happen here where we live and sadly, I had to tell them yes. Evil exists.

But we cannot allow the potential for evil to steal our joy.

That's the goal of this cowardly type of behavior - to instill fear, to rob of joy, and to freeze up culture. But we're a strong people - we're a community of people that will rip our shirts off of our back and help another person who is simply in need. All of the worries that were once so important will fade away and vanish as we move from extras to real need.

I've seen it.

But, we also get busy. I get busy and I allow things that aren't of as great of importance cloud my real important. I worry more about getting the living room floor clean then helping others get food on the table. I see my lawn and want it green and forget about those who just need water. It's a balance, such a balance. It's not about giving up and not taking care of the gifts in our home, but it's maintaining the perspective of the real importants. It's knowing, at some level, that all of these extras are truly gifts and shouldn't be thought of as just expected.

Life is a gift.

The little boys sitting at my kitchen table asking for another organic lollipop this morning are all gifts. Are they loud? Yes. Do the disobey? Yes. Sometimes do they get into trouble? Their room is a mess, their clothes with knees ripped, there are holes dug in my yard from them, and they often push me to my absolute limit. Yet, the bottom line is those boys are gifts. Blessings. Just as those in your life right now, those little ones that sometimes challenge, are gifts.

It's that beautiful normal that we lose sight of until it is ripped from us.

And then we see it again - this gift of life - this we don't know the brevity of our days but oh my goodness at this moment we are so grateful for them type of vision. We see the need to tiptoe into our little one's bedrooms and kiss them on the forehead and simply watch them sleep. We say yes to the sucker in the morning just this one time because we love them. We are grateful for the dinners at the table and the kids buckled in the car. And our heart mourns for those who have had normal stolen from them.

We cannot live in fear of losing normal. Then we lose.

However, we can live our lives with a posture that celebrates normal. We can set up checks in our day to remind us of the beauty in normal (read why vacuuming should always be beautiful). And we can remember that even though every moment will not be amazing that the moments that we do have to live our gifts. It doesn't mean that we are going to be happy, joyful, chipper, and optimistic every single second. It does mean that at our core we are simply aware that living, and life, and this day is a gift.

It's opportunity.

Today is an opportunity to demonstrate the good in people. Hold the door, smile at the person behind the coffee counter, email a friend and let them know you're grateful they're in your life, pick up the phone and tell someone you love them, play with your kids, and stop for a moment and just be thankful. Gratitude, practice it, practice it, practice it. Even if it is making yourself come up with just two things you are thankful for - do it. It's a discipline, this gratitude way of living, and at the core of it is an understanding of the unbelievable gift of normal.

My heart aches for those families in Boston. Aches. I don't get evil. But I do get, and do believe in the tenacity and spirit of you and me and others out there. You can make a difference. In fact, you do make a difference.

Bless others today. Be grateful for all you do have. Look for joy.

Light outshines darkness.

#prayingforboston

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dear not so perfect but very real mom

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Martin) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 13:01:00 +0000

You are not alone.

If we got together and peeked at each other's lives you might discover that my life too is of that not so perfect caliber as well. Sure, I love pinterest and pin a bunch of things, like, ahem, maybe close to one thousand, but the things that I really do? Honestly? I can't think of more than five. They're interesting, inspiring, and creative, but most days I find myself working to keep things on track that I don't have time to do those extras. Yeah, I share pictures on facebook, but most often they're of the fabulous and cute and fun moments and not those moments where I'm fretting over the family room floor where the bag of chips was just spilled and crushed.

In fact, right now, I'm almost caught up on laundry. Almost, and I say it with a laugh because for the entire weekend I worked on getting caught up because I was so behind. I'm sure there is a pin or an article or an awesome system on laundry. Actually, I know of a site for just laundry written by a friend of mine. Did she write it because she's perfect and has the system down? No. She wrote it because she, too, needed to develop a plan and a target for that pesky thing called laundry.

Right now, I have dishes in my sink waiting to be washed. And it's morning, and in my ideal morning I would have had them done before I went to bed, but last night I chose to watch Chopped Masters with my daughters versus spend the time in my kitchen. That? A wise choice, a choice that values them more than those dishes. Which, will get done in the next hour anyways. Yet, it's easy to look in the kitchen in these very wee hours of the morning and to think that I don't have it all together and miss that in that instant I chose to do the real important.

But this perfect mom thing? This superhero mom? The mom that never loses her cool? Well, she just doesn't exist. Ever. As I've been working on writing my book I came to this realization about motherhood nowadays and how the phrase surviving motherhood has become one that you and I hear. What's interesting is that one thousand years ago we needed to simply survive, and now we need to survive and we're also surviving motherhood.

Why the extra? It's from the extras. The extra time, the media, the pressures of a culture where time can be emphasized on things beyond simply putting food on our table. Which, no matter what, is still very challenging for many and so now there is not only the real need to survive but also this unspoken of pressure of surviving and measuring up. But now, you and I, and the moms at preschool or in the line at Starbucks waiting to try the hazelnut macchiato and the moms at home with the newborns and the moms in the office working away and the moms driving and all of us moms together live in a time where we are being told you must be perfect and happy and creative and do every single thing you had to do in the past and now you must raise perfect kids and you the mother must not make a mistake. Ever.

And instead of thriving often it feels like surviving.

What about the difference that you're making in the world? Which you are, right now. I know that sometimes it doesn't feel like such a difference when you rinse those dishes and put them in the dishwasher and sweep the floor {again} and tie some shoes, fold some socks, teach math facts, say the prayers together, shovel the driveway, vacuum the chips up, and drive to soccer. But, it's a difference. Those kids, who call you mother, watch you and know that you'll be there for them. That matters. They know that when they wake up and cry mom that you'll come. Will you always be chipper? No. If you're like me some mornings you'll simply say it's not morning go back to bed so you can get just five more minutes of sleep. But you'll get up, and you'll help them get dressed, and help them get to doing what they need to do. That is what matters.

Don't let the perfect mom ideal discourage. Remember those pins? If finishing those pinterest pins defined the mom that had it together than I wouldn't be sleeping. All of this excess information, as I wrote in overloaded world, is just there as information that you and I can choose to do. Or not to do. It's not a requirement for motherhood success. Instead I want you to embrace all you do accomplish each day. Start looking at your day and celebrating you, your family, and motherhood. Don't tell me it's just anything, because you know how I feel about adding just in front of anything. Don't qualify motherhood - embrace motherhood. If you could pin every single thing that you did in one day that made a difference you would have a board full. In one day. Think about that.

And you know what? Not liking it, having a hard day, struggling, wondering if you matter, and if you're making a difference are normal days. But so are the good days. Which you have - you just need to start recording them and remembering them. If you have a good day mark it down, write a friend, but remember. Start to look at your life with the lens that celebrates the good, the powerful, and the simple beautiful things as well.

You and I can be a generation of women that celebrates the power in motherhood. We can encourage each other to rise up, to begin again, and to finish well. We can push the myth of the perfect mom to the curb and instead embrace the real mom with all of her flaws but the tenacity and spirit of a fighter. Instead of spending time watching, judging, and comparing - we can be a culture that extends a hand, listens, encourages, and supports. You know why? Because our children watch. And our children are going to do life, and do this parenting thing together.

So dear not so perfect but very real mom, you and I are in this together. It's not a competition. It's a journey, a life that we're doing. This motherhood portion? It's part of our story - it's that part that makes us stronger, pushes us to our limits, sharpens our spirit, and unearths the hero in us that is so often forgotten. And it's for doing something absolutely amazing - it's for being the mom, the not so perfect mom, who loves her kids and knows she makes mistakes, but still keeps on going.

The not so perfect but very real mom inspires. You inspire.

Do motherhood today. With your head held high, brushing off the mistakes, vacuuming the floor, loving on your kids, and celebrating the victories.

From me. The mom, who is now standing up to go finish those dishes before the kids get up, to you.

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Need encouragement? 21 of my Dear Mom Letters are now together - they are the letters about why you are not failing, why you matter, and what to do on those overwhelming motherhood days.

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