Mommy Milestone: I Love You.

From the moment she was born I said it. I whispered it, prayed it, sang it, and repeated it over and over and over again. Even though those three little words couldn’t possibly describe my emotions bottled up inside, I said them anyway. “I love you.” From the moment she was born and for no reason at all I loved her. (It is in these moments that I feel I can see a glimpse of our Heavenly Father’s agape love towards man. We are nothing and could not possibly earn his favor, yet he so richly lavishes his love upon us.)

God has blessed our family with a sweet, sassy, silly, social butterfly named Addie. She has turned our world upside down, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. Since she was born we make sure to tell her we love her each and every day so that it will be one of those undeniable truths that she can hold fast to when she becomes a teenager and thinks she knows it all, or her world is rocked by some unforeseen future or lingering doubt.

Most of our professions of love have been monologues spoken over her as she lie asleep, during late night rocking chair sessions, or fleeting and hurried moments throughout our time together. One day something different happened. She said it. Not “I love you too” as in a reply, but just out of the blue.  “Mommy, I’ll always love you.” And at that moment my heart grew three sizes and burst into a million tiny pieces all over the floor.

Now don’t forget, she is two…so shortly after this heartfelt moment she can usually be heard demanding another snack, drink, or negotiating five more minutes of playtime before her bath. But, in this moment I realize that another milestone of motherhood has come and I love her more with each passing day.


Painting pet rocks from the stones she collected at Granny Layne and Papa’s house.



Mommy Milestone: When Parenting Feels Like Failure

I am pretty sure that parenthood is a constant practice in the art of failure. You see,  I know that this parenting gig is going to be full of ups and downs, but as I clean up an “accident” off of the kitchen floor for the 1,232 time during our never-ending potty training saga I feel a twinge of guilt. What am I doing wrong? Why can’t I get her to understand that the she needs to go in the potty instead of all over the floor in front our dinner guests from Church. What will they think? Maybe I should consult the all-knowing Mr. Google….

So here I am tonight. I am acutely aware of the fact that I can not and will not always be able to do the right thing for her (despite my best intentions), but ultimately it is Christ who holds her future. I can not make her into a good little girl, productive citizen, or successful adult, no more than I can grant her eternal life. Tonight I rest in the fact that He is all that she or I will ever need, and He certainly does not have a fear of failure.