The Twin Struggle is Real!

At one point every twin parent has been there. You’re out and about with your twins and there is that one person that feels the need to compete on just how hard their ONE baby is . You know the comment we all love to hate, “Well….my kids are 18 months apart and it’s the same thing so I know how you feel.” And you struggle internally not to say something rude and obnoxious in reply because I’m sorry but…no….your two children born an entire YEAR AND A HALF apart are not the same. You see, when you say that to a twin parent that has been up for over 24 hours due to TWO fussy babies the EXACT same age in surround sound, well quite frankly that’s an insult. You may FEEL like you are trying to say, “I’ve been there too.” But…you’re not. In fact, when you say that to a mentally and emotionally exhausted twin parent it’s a bit like throwing our struggle in our faces.Word.

Let me be clear. I have FOUR children. Two teenagers, a nineteen year old son and a sixteen year old daughter and my three and a half year old boy/girl twins. The teenagers are two and a half years apart. Therefor I can truthfully speak on both sides of the spectrum. I know that having children close together is hard. I knew it would be as we planned to try for my oldest daughter. My son was two and a half when she was born and it was very hard. There were lots of sleepless nights and teething and stomach bugs and all of the fun things that define parenting children. But upon the birth of my oldest daughter my son was potty trained (I was DETERMINED not to have two in diapers!) He was only two and a half but he already understood the rules. He knew that mommy needed him to be quiet at certain times. He knew that when mommy changed the baby, it was a big help when he took the dirty diaper and put it in the diaper pail. At this age he was already well on his way to the understanding that things were different as mommy had TWO babies to keep after and for the most part he did rather well with that transition.

When we had our twins all of my hard earned stripes of parenting went out the window. Everything I thought I knew was nothing like I had imagined it would be. I had very little understanding of how hard life was about to get. After six months I was exhausted and I buckled down with the sleep training and things got a little better. BUT….those up-all-nighters with poop, tears (yours and theirs), puke, pee and bleeding eardrums, those nights firmly established that twin parenting was MUCH harder than anything I had ever encountered before.

I don’t try to diminish a singleton parents struggle. In fact, I applaud you. I can say that I HAVE been there. But it’s quite frustrating when you have person after person try to “out-do” your up all nights in some lame attempt to seem like they have it harder. Trust me, I KNOW different. That’s not to say you didn’t have a rough night. I’m sure you did. For YOU. For me, a rough night is TWO screaming kids, one keeping the other awake all….night….long. Two children the same age. Let that sink in. They poop…all the time. This means we change a crap load of diapers all…day…long. The eat constantly and trust me, if you’re not fast enough with it, the ear splitting volume of their disapproval is not to be trifled with. You learn not to even cringe at the spit up caked on your shirt because it’s pointless to change it…it’s just going to happen again and again. They typically teeth in tandem and this means MORE sleepless nights, rocking, swaying, shhhhsssshhhing, pleading, begging…all in surround sound. We often don’t get a timeout while one parent handles a single child while the other grabs a much needed nap because there are TWO babies.

I’m sure this article will spark some outrage and the “why do we compare” topic. But that’s just it…I’m not comparing. Indeed, I make it a point to NEVER compare my family life with others. Every family is different and thus everyone has different struggles. So why don’t we all just agree….yes, your singleton is hard. But NO…it’s NOT the same or as hard as TWINS!

So…To All Twin Parents that Have Been Here,

When you are faced with someone trying to “relate” to how hard you have it, my advice is this: Just smile and nod because at the end of the day you know the reality and they…they just don’t get it! LOL Save those friendships and just go along, after all, they are TRYING to relate to you…even if they aren’t doing a stellar job!🙂

Learning to Love the Bittersweet

I remember vividly the my son’s first day of school. The smell of the school (that never seems to change), the awful low pile carpet, the bare brick walls…those things meant nothing then. Then…I had no idea this was one of those tiny memories that I would be storing up like diamonds. That freckled face red head boy who so proudly and bravely strolled into Kindergarten without a qualm simply amazed me….I was a nervous wreck. This was my boy….my first born. I had held him…rocked him….sang to him and been up all night with him and on this day….he was walking out of my reach and forging a new path. I prayed…that his teacher would grow to understand my boy. That she would realize he is a very social soul. He knows no strangers (much like his mother) and I knew that could be frustrating. I was so worried that she wouldn’t realize that my boy was special….that he needed a firm but loving hand. I worried she wouldn’t see that and that she would want to restrain that very special part of him. But she didn’t. She instinctively knew that he was very outgoing and he just need a gentle guidance. I can’t thank her enough for that. There will never be enough words to express to her how much that acceptance of my boy’s nature meant to me.


Today….thirteen years later I watched my boy stroll (strut?) across that stage and shake the hand of the man handing him his high school diploma. It was a hard knock. A bittersweet moment that I reveled in and wanted to run from at the same time. Here was my boy. A productive citizen of society that his father and  I strove so hard to lead. He was in his cap and gown, grinning from ear to ear, and my heart swelled to enormous proportions. He did it. He earned what, in today’s time, seems unattainable to so many. But my mother’s heart was cracking wide open. I wanted to run on that field…snatch him up and say…”NO….STOP GROWING UP!” I wanted to cry (but I didn’t) and shout to the heavens….”I’m just not ready!!”


I had such a hard time when he turned 18. I realized that he was no longer in my “control” and that he was his own person.  I worried constantly that he would need my guidance but not ask for it because he was “all grown up now”. I should have known better. After many…MANY months of worry and upset I realized…my boy had never stopped asking me for guidance. He may be grown but he was still his mama’s boy. There is no greater relief in the world that coming to that realization. That you are still needed by your children even after they are grown.

Today…I watched my son pass a milestone that is hard to obtain. I was so fiercely proud of him that I could hardly speak. I literally shook in my shoes the whole ceremony because I understood what this meant. He was “all grown up now” and he had freedom to do as he wished. Tonight he is with his friends….doing ridiculously funny/stupid things in honor of graduating. I still worry. Yes….that will never go away. But I have come to realize that we have to let him be who we raised him to be. A good boy. And as I sit here and cry over the nostalgia that swamps me at every corner I have turned tonight I’ve come to see…we did good. We did FABULOUS. Our boy is conquering this thing called life with full gusto and to that I say…congratulations my biggest baby boy. We are SO very proud of you and you…you are loved more than you could possibly understand!

What Exactly is Perfection?


Have you ever really wondered what people see and think when they look at you? Of course we do…all of us. It’s human nature to worry about how others perceive us and so we all struggle to be perfect. But what exactly is perfect? And who has time to strive towards that continuously? I certainly don’t. I have four children that make it nearly impossible to be perfect and if I ever for one full minute might actually think I could be perfect….one of those four children set me straight right away.

I love my life. Let me just say that. I think my life is perfect because I am implicitly happy in it. But your definition of perfect and mine may be slightly different. If by perfect you mean healthy children….then yes, life is perfect. If by perfect you mean a roof over my head….then yes, my life is perfect. If by perfect you mean Food in my pantry….then yes my life is perfect. Those are the things that mean perfection to me. To be told you are pretty, talented and smart are all perks of life…they do not mean perfection. At least not in my estimation.

I take none of the blessing in my life for granted. I fully understand that God has smiled on me and thank Him daily for that gift. I live positively and with gusto because everyday is one more on this earth with my family. I have been knocked down, of course I have, we all have at some point but I get back up and move on because that is how life is. That is His grand design…to walk through life facing trial and tribulation and understand that he is right there with you.

I don’t judge. Ever. I am far too aware how small I am in the grand scheme of things to ever put myself above others. I’m also aware that because I clearly see MY blessings and chose to live positively I can been seen in a negative light. This is the way of the world and I accept that. I understand that because there are people out there who are content to be unhappy…they feel that everyone should be okay with that as well. And that’s their opinion and they have a right to it.

But I also have the right to say…I’m sorry. I’m sorry you are miserable and only invite negativity into your life. I’m sorry that my happiness upsets you. I am sorry that you look at my mediocre life and it seems so “perfect” that you want to spew hate at me. I am sorry….no….wait….you know what…I’m NOT sorry.

I’m never going to apologize for seeing the blessing God has put in my life as anything but a miracle. I am never ever going to apologize for having the, as you say, “perfect” life. It’s just not going to happen. I adore my life. I revel in all of the wonders I get to see every single day in my home. I pray for you….that you find happiness in all that you ALREADY have. I pray that you look around and see…life is far too short to dwell in negativity. I pray that you can one day look at my life….understand that I have fallen before too ….and that it is possible to get back up. I pray for you.

Resisting the Urge to Wallow in Self Pity

It’s so easy to just give in an wallow. To feel the upset and cling to the miser of it. I admit I fell into it like I was high diving for the Olympics. Of course all I have to do all day long…is think. And wonder. I ask myself a million questions, each one more ridiculous than the last, and by the time I am finished with my thinking…I am exhausted and still have no answers. Life has thrown me for a loop more times than I feel is fair. But I am a daughter of the Lord and so I remain ever faithful to His will. If I must endure heartache…He has a reason for it. And with that thought I ask…what am I to learn from this heart ache? If He wishes me to experience all of these negative feelings surely there must be a reason. 

And so …I ponder and reflect all the way back to the beginning. To the very start. I was so trusting. A friendship that I thought would NEVER, in a million years, ended. Best friends since 10th grade. And then just one day…it was gone. For no reason at all. One day we were thick as thieves and the next…nothing. NO returned phone calls. NO returned emails. NO replies via text messaging. Just gone. Oh she was still around. I still see her…and her new husband. I am sure he is the root of all of it. But if she chose to let our friendship go then who am I to argue with it. I tried. I really did but to no avail. And so I wrapped those fun memories of us up in a bow and locked them away. I cried. I was heartbroken. I wondered if I had done something wrong. And as much as I wanted to resolve the issue…there was no resolution to be found. We were just no more.

I moved on. Sort of. I was wounded you see. And wary. How hard it is to trust again after a let down of such magnitude. But I am an open soul…eager to meet new people. And I did. That friendship was …fun. Exhausting sometimes but…fun. We laughed about everything. We grew very close (I thought) and along the way I felt the wound from a previous friendship…mend. We did everything together…planned everything together. It was like be married to a chick. We talked every day on the phone. Had such deep conversations and there was nothing I didn’t tell her. I trusted. Completely. We were…kindred spirits she and I. Both hurt from  previous relationships and some how we managed to brighten each others day with just a funny story or a crazy joke. 

But we were also very different (VERY different I was to learn later). And those differences finally began to show. And I think I just….couldn’t keep up. Her mood towards me…changed. Sometimes in small ways…and sometimes in big. I started to realize…I never knew where I stood with her…literally from one day to the next. We had other friends. We all hung out but eventually it was hard for me to mistake…something was different. I asked…of course I did…I am not a sit back and take it type of girl. I wanted to know. Of course…NOTHING was wrong…everything was fine. I was just being overly emotional.

Sure sure…lump it up to being at home all day and having to much time to myself. I took the out and ran with it. I could make it work. But…something was still off. A subtle shift in atmosphere when ever we were around each other. A distance that, no matter how hard I tried, I could not close. And I tried…believe me…I went above and beyond. There was just no fixing it.

Heartbreak…at this point i had been dealt this blow before and though it hurt terribly I was an old hand at shutting down the emotional roller coaster of it.  Now I just needed to distance myself. To disconnect. And I have…though it may not have even been noticed. Those other friendships moved to the forefront and I am just the acquaintance. And I….I am completely okay with that. It makes it so much easier for me…to disconnect. To let go has been a HUGE relief. I feel as if the weight of a thousand pounds has been lifted from my shoulders. And with that realization came another…should a real and true friendship weigh you down? I almost feel guilty for the relief of it. So…maybe it has just been a life lesson that He wished me experience.

Choose your friendships wisely. NEVER turn one away but…be careful the person you give your loyalty to. I learned that…I am a GREAT friend. I care, sometimes too much, when others care too little. But that reflects on them…not me. I am so very proud of the person that I am. I am…faithful…to God…to my husband…to my friends…to my family. I am always faithful. I love that I have instilled my deep love for friendship in my own children. That they know it’s so very important to be honest and just….talk to one another. Because they have seen that from me. 

I walk away with a light heart because I have done everything I could to make a friendship work. And when it became apparent it wasn’t going to…at least I know…I tried. I am happy. Happy that I can see those old friendships and not feel bitter or hurt by them any more. Happy that I can look back and laugh at the memories we once shared. 

Every friendship changes you. Either for the good…or the bad. It’s up to YOU on how you let it affect you. I am strong enough to walk away with a head held high because those lost friendships…changed me for the better. They taught me a LOT about myself that I did not know and I welcome those lessons as they come if that is how He wishes it to be. 

I don’t have issues with any one of them. I simply choose to remove myself from further heartache. Distance….is all in what perspective you look at it in. Image


I’m letting go.

One Year

One year…

In the morning I will watch as my biggest baby boy embarks on his senior year. It’s going to be one of those little memories…you know…the ones I hoard up like diamonds. One year seems like a long time but as I sit here…his life has flashed before me. From a baby, to toddler, to rough and tumble sticky fingered boy, to “I’m so cool” teenager.

One year…

It’s true…in one year a LOT can happen. But to a mama watching her son grow into a man…it’s just a blink of an eye. How hard it is to look at him and see so little of the sweet smelling baby. To instead see a beard and hear a deep masculine voice. To worry and know…I will always worry, no matter how grown up he is. To hear him laugh and I frown as I try so hard to remember what his baby giggles sounded like.

One year…

Poof…it will fly by in no time. How could it not? I try not to measure it as time I have left with him. He will always be my baby…right? But it’s hard not to see it that way as military recruiters call my house (oh how I want to rant and rave at that one) and colleges send copious amounts of brochures promising that they are the best choice for my son…and each one farther away than the next. He assures me, my biggest baby boy, that he will always be here. “I’m always gonna be here mama!” he tells me. And I snatch those words and hold them close to me…hoping that if I can hang onto them tightly enough they will be true.

One year…

But I know…in my mama’s heart I know. He will graduate. And maybe he will be at home for a year or so. But then…life. He will find a career (hopefully one he loves) and he will leave the nest. He will find love. He will marry. He will build his own little family. And I will be so proud of him! I will be his biggest fan…his greatest supporter! But my mama’s heart is breaking…because he is no longer my sticky fingered little boy. 

One year…

I often ask myself…do all mothers feel this way about their sons? And after recalling conversations with my mother-in-law I realize…yes they do. I say a prayer of thanks to that wonderful woman who raised her son to the man he is today. She did a fantastic job. There is a saying…”don’t marry a man…unless you’d be proud to have a son exactly like him.” I believe I have done very well in that department. And then I realize …his mother has gone through exactly what I am going through. Her heart has broken at the knowledge that her little boy…has made his way. And I am honored to have known and loved her. 

One year…

So you see…one year…can pass in an instant. And I desperately hope that it won’t. I hope I remember to collect all those little moments I can for later years. And maybe one day his wife will sit with me and let me share them with her. Maybe one day I can be like that wonderful and brave woman, my mother-in-law, and open my heart fully to her as my mother-in-law did for me. 


I Shine!

Why does it take so much effort to maintain a friendship?  Aren’t we built to naturally gravitate towards people that we are alike in some manner? If that’s so, it shouldn’t be hard to be friends. Or you would think. Women are petty. We cry over the most ridiculous things. Everything is a big deal to us. And men…men can only stare on in bafflement. The concept eludes them because they aren’t built like us. But then maybe it’s just me. Do ALL women have issues with finding and keeping friends? I am overly emotional. I confess. I am largely attached and fiercely loyal to my friends. And so it’s a bit of a sting to realize I am not as important to them…as they are to me. I am an acquaintance. Someone they know that is irritatingly in the way. And so…should I just completely disconnect? Walk away and bow out gracefully? Is it really that easy? I fear not. It’s such a tight circle we are all weaved in. Other people make it hard to just fade into the mist. And I want to. I really really want to protect myself from further heartbreak. My instinct says cut all ties…clean. But my head…that stupid appendage stuck to my shoulders…my head tells me it won’t be that easy.

I have discussed this with my mother (we are so close she and I) and my cousin who is more my sister and best friend than any one on this planet ever has been, they both agree. Walk away. They aren’t worth the heartache you put yourself through. And I see that. Clear as day I see that those past relationships that I cling too…just aren’t healthy for me. In fact they are a cancer on my wellbeing. And sadly…they don’t even realize it. How pathetic is that? I stubbornly have clung to a friendship that just isn’t worth my time and effort. How can it be? My pride rears its head…you are BETTER than this! And I am. Vainly I admit that. I AM better than this sloppy moping I have set about. The vivacious diva in me is screeching at the top of her lungs in my head…NOT WORTH IT! And I can only nod my head and agree as a tear slides down my face.

Is it because I have been dealt this blow before? Is that why I so stubbornly cling to these dead and gone relationships? So desperate to NOT lose another friendship. I look in from the outside and can only shake my head at myself. You are an idiot. A year has shown you…this is over. Walk away. That’s what my inner diva is telling me as she smirks.  And still…I resist. Perhaps I cling to those happier times. When we all laughed so openly with each other. Now we dance warily about each other’s feelings and try not to shatter an uneasy peace. Sounds tragic doesn’t it? And pathetic. I detest how pathetic it makes me feel. I am a whiner. The whiner in our bunch. I insist on pushing myself on them. All the while I feel like I am being whispered about behind my back. Paranoid…probably. But sadly…also probably true.

Why can’t we women be like men in respect to a friendship? They come…they go. No hurt feelings or heartache. Men are resilient and impervious to such a puny thing as hurt feelings because of a friend. They look at a weeping woman grieving the loss of a friendship (or two) and are mystified. How to explain to them how we feel…so they can better console us…if they can’t even begin to fathom what the actual feeling is like. Heartache over lost loved ones (family or past women)…that’s a different feeling entirely. That they understand. The open heartbreak they see in your eyes over a dissipating friendship is as foreign to them as the idea of giving birth. They will never understand it.

I sit here…nursing a wounded heart, determined to somehow make this as painless as possible on my part. And I know that it’s just going to be a mess. A mess I don’t want to have to deal with. It would be great if sticking my head in the sand was acceptable. I know it’s not. Friendships are messy. Pride is in the way on both sides. Mine because I hate to admit I’ve clung this long to a dead friendship and on the other for being called out on it. How dare I! How dare I make any one feel like they’ve treated me unfairly! Like I’ve been treated ill and left out for far too long! Why can’t I just sit in my corner like a good little girl and be happy to be played with when I’m asked to? Surely that’s not too much to ask. Why can’t I be a wallflower and leave well enough alone?

Must I whine? You see…I’ve had this conversation before. It’s the same exact conversation. Verbatim. And yet…no one gets it. No one understands what  I am trying to say. Even though I’ve shouted it…emphatically repeated over and over…it just doesn’t sink in. I often wonder are they confused by my upset. Do they look at each other like I have grown a third head and truly just can’t see? Is it just drama to them? The idea nearly unhinges me. I am NOT a drama queen by any means. If anything…I walk away from drama. I have proven that time and again…there has been ample opportunity. Why can’t I just accept my place that has been made for me? Why can’t I see that I don’t fit anymore? Not really.

And so I asked myself. Why can’t I just sit in the shadows and be okay with that? Why can’t I be content with a passing “like” on facebook and a text every six months or so? In the beginning I made the excuses. Life is busy. People are busy. They all have families to look after. But my diva snidely points out that they make time for each other. Just not you. You, my diva rudely states, you invite yourself…remember? And to my shame…I do. It is lowering. And my diva is pretty pissed at me right now. As I ask myself, why can’t I be cool with what they give me…she slaps me in the back of the head.

Why? Why?!! Because that just ain’t me. I don’t sit on the sidelines. At all. Ever. I shine. I shine and I am proud that I shine. I never tone it down. I turn it all the way up at every opportunity because that is the person that I am. Am I heartbroken? You damn right I am! But I’ll be damned if I sit on anyone’s sidelines while the ball is in progress. I’ve been accused of being a diva and…I love that about me. It tells me…I shine. I sparkle and others notice. I thrive on my shine. I am so unbelievably proud of my diva. She tells me to get off my ass and quit crying like a little girl. She shrieks in outrage that anyone…even my supposed dearest people…would ever try to dull my shine! She plots evil deeds in retribution for anyone daring such a thing.

So…I sit up a little straighter. Sling my hair back and throw on my favorite lip gloss. That look…the one I am so often accused of (think Scarlett O’Hara) slides over my face and my diva is PROUD. There she is! There’s the baddest chick coming out to play. I can deal with this. Like the lady my mama raised me to be. Just be…me. And I shine.



Yes….Still Happily Ever After!

It doesn’t seem like 18 years today that I’ve been married. To tell the truth there are times I still feel like we JUST got married. That we are still on our honeymoon. I merely blinked and nearly two decades have passed. It is true what they say…time flies when you are having fun. Never for a moment have I regretted the words “I do”. Never for one second have I ever even uttered the dreaded “D” word. In all our years…through any struggle and strife I never dared to say that word. And neither did he. No not ever. Hard to believe isn’t it? That cursed word gets thrown about so easily these days. As if the dissolution of a marriage is nothing more than a quick trip to the court house and poof…you’re not married any more. We both agreed, my love and I, that once we wed…there would be no mention of divorce. Oh yes…I can hear the mocking comments now. No one really ever WANTS to get a divorce. But then I have to answer with…well did any one ever want to be really married?

Marriage is hard. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. You will struggle. You will feel like a failure. You will, at one time in your marriage, wonder if you made the right decision. You will cry. You will get angry. You will lose sleep. Those things are a given in a good marriage. Let me explain why. Struggle implies that you are on hard times. And to that I can say my husband and I have had more than our fair share of that. But in those hard times you must learn to struggle together. Not apart. When you feel you are failing or can see that your spouse is feeling a failure…this is when you gather them to you and loudly proclaim that you are PROUD of them…no matter their failures. I get asked often how we have made it so long? I answer with out hesitation. Patience, prayer and persistence. If you can maintain those three P’s in a marriage you can survive just about anything God throws at you.

I Remember:

I still can smell the cologne that my hubby to be was wearing the day we were married. I can still hear my heart (and his) thundering in my ears. The butterflies were so strong I thought they might carry me away. Eighteen years and I can still hear the catch in his voice when he repeated his vows to me. It was one of the most breath taking moments of my life. I cried. Of course I did…ruined my carefully applied makeup and blubbered like a baby. I didn’t care one wit….I was marrying my love! My hand trembled when he slipped that ring on my finger. So did his. I remember the moment we turned to face our friends and family as Mr & Mrs Burkett and my mama was the first face I looked for. My heart was bursting with pride and I had to have that moment….those few seconds to share it with her. She answered with a proud and beaming smile of her own. The first dance with my brand new husband was like a fairy tale. Endless Love sang around us as we just stared at each other. Still trying to take in that we were actually married. The father-daughter dance as my daddy shed silent tears over losing his little girl. And that quiet moment where I let him cry but kissed his cheek to let him know…I was always going to be his little girl. I even offered to dance on his feet to remind him. And he laughed like I hoped he would. I danced a dance with my new father in law and listened as he wisely told me of the hard work that a marriage took. “You will find that there will be different kinds of love in your marriage.” He was so …serious, “Right now you are madly and insanely in love. In a few years you will settle in and find a warm love. When you are old and gray you will find a love that has lasted through the ages of time. But there will always be….love.” Those wise words ring in my ear to this day and I know he meant them. I laughed as we ran through a shower of rice to get to the truck. And then I laughed some more as it took three of us to squeeze my princess sized wedding dress into that little S10 pick up truck. And then I cried as my love told me I looked like a princess. Words every bride longs to hear on her wedding day. He continued to tell me all the things a bride seeks to hear from her love. I was beautiful. I took his breath away the first instant our eyes met. He couldn’t wait to start the rest of our lives. I remember them all. Vividly.

Yes…I am blessed. I am a happily married woman of 18 years and he still makes my heart sing. I am passionately proud that we have been happily married for eighteen years. I sing it loudly, as often as I can to as many people as I can. I look at him today and see this wonderful, caring, fiercely loyal  and unabashed man and sometimes still find it hard to believe he is mine. I NEVER take that for granted. Life has shown me through the lives of others that time is precious. One blink of an eye can change everything. That thought never strays far from my mind. I treasure every single moment God gives me on this earth. I try to squeeze as much love as I can into those moments. And I never….ever….miss a chance to say…I love you.

Ode to My Mother

What’s the definition of a mother? I am sure Webster’s has a very neat explanation, all nice and tidy summing it up in a sentence or two. But how can you sum up all a mother is with a few sentences? Does Webster go into detail about the tears a mother will cry as she brings her child into the world? The agony she endures and the instant love that will engulf her as she peers into those new and innocent eyes? Does Webster explain how much worry a mother will face in the entire life time of her child…no matter the age? Does he tell of her fierce loyalty and dedication to her child…so much so that she would willingly die to protect him or her? And what about how proud a mother can feel for her child as she sees him or her take the first steps, say their first words or as he or she walks into a classroom for the very first time? I bet Webster doesn’t tell you all of that. The love a mother feels for her child can not be simply explained. I don’t have the words to fully explain the absolute love that I have for my children. Indeed, it would take me more time than I have to put it for all to see here today. But I can tell you….being a mother has clearly brought what my mother has endured into focus. I now know with full certainty how far my mother would go to protect me. How far she would go to make me happy. How much she truly loves me. Of course I know my mother loves me but I didn’t fully grasp just how much until I gave birth to my first child. Until I looked into the precious eyes and knew…I would give my last breath to him. I would climb mountains, slay dragons, and sacrifice my own life for his. And after I realized this…I knew I owed my mother a debt of gratitude that I would never, in all my years, ever be able to repay her. But I will try. 

You can’t know how much I love you mom. How proud I am of YOU. How much I brag on you every time I get the chance. You can’t possibly know how much I appreciate that I can call you and you will drop everything and come running. You can’t fathom the wealth of love I feel as I sit here and tell the world about how wonderful my mother is. 

So you see….it goes both ways. Thanks to you I am a good mother. The years under your tutelage have taught me all the knowledge I will need to endeavor my journey as a mom. And when my children are grown…and they have their own families….they will understand too…just how much I truly love them.  

A Sentimental Moment

Precious memories....oh how they linger. How they ever flood my soul!

Precious memories….oh how they linger. How they ever flood my soul!


Today as I laid my son down for his nap I happened to look over on his bed side table and glimpse my great-grandfather’s Bible. I picked it up and lovingly ran my hand over it. Though I don’t clearly remember my great-grandfather I do have memories of him. I also have my grandmother and mother’s memories that they have shared with me. As I toted this ancient testament of God’s word around I thought about other things that I had just “laying” around that were special to me…my grandmother Williamson’s bowl that my mother gave to me…a guitar pick that my Uncle gave to me before he passed away. These things are small and insignificant to any one else but to me…they will be the things I remove FIRST of my personal belongs in case of hurricane or flood. Yes….they mean that much to me. So here’s the story.

My great-grandfather's beloved Holy Bible.

My great-grandfather’s beloved Holy Bible.

Great-grandfather Clyde Harrell was a wonderful and loving man. He was modest and simple, choosing to live off of the land and raise his family. He was the Deacon of his church and a man other’s in the community looked up to. My memories might be hazy but…I have a strong sense of love for him through the warmth and fabulous stories my grandmother and mother tell me of him. Every time I hold this worn and weathered Bible I imagine the many many times my great-grandfather opened it in a time where he needed guidance. I open it and hear the pages creak and groan as the ages have taken its toll but still…this Bible holds true. It’s words are still just as clear as the day it was pressed. And the meaning in the messages still reach inside of me when I need His words the most.

My grandmother WIlliamson's bowl.

My grandmother WIlliamson’s bowl.

My grandmother Williamson passed away when I was but one year of age. I am told she held me, sang to me, rocked me and spoiled me but to my deep regret…I do not have memory of it. As with my great-grandfather I hear the wonderful stories of her through my father and my Aunts and Uncles. I feel their deep connection and the wealth of love that pours from them as they laughingly tell me of a time when “Mama” did this or that. My mother tells me how blessed she feels to have had the honor of knowing her and I can see that in her smile as she tells me how her mother in law would get onto her son (my father) when he was not behaving as a loving husband should. When my mother gave me this bowl she explained that though it was plain…it was strong. Like a woman of faith. If you look closely you can see the small crack where the bowl has been glued back together after being broken.  I now look at that crack and know that even though we fall on hard times…if you are just strong in your beliefs you can weather anything…even a break.

My Uncle Ronnie was my father’s closest companion and confidant. I was raised up at his knee just as I was my father’s. My fondest and most wonderful childhood memories center around a bonfire and my father and uncle playing guitar and singing. When my aunts chimed in with harmony it was truly awe inspiring. I was quite simply amazed by them all. In time I learned to play the guitar and on one of our MANY nights of playing and singing I realized I had forgotten my pick (a rather common occurrence on my part) and my uncle handed me one from his front pocket. “Lotta miles on that there pick”, he told me with that smile so full of wisdom, “May as well add your own to it.” At that time I though I was going to have my uncle forever. And then tragedy befell and we lost him to cancer. I hoarded that pick like it was the family jewels after that. Never allowing any one to so much as touch it for fear it would wipe off all those miles he swore were on it.

The pick my beloved Uncle Ronnie gave to me.

The pick my beloved Uncle Ronnie gave to me.

These precious treasures are invaluable to me. They will be passed down to my children and their children with the same reverence as they were to me. To the average person…they are but inanimate objects but to me…to me they are priceless.

Yeah…Still Here.

What can I say….life is busy. Cut me some slack! I am a mama of four kids, one busy hubby, a double major in college, I (try) to maintain a household and…still do all of this while looking fabulous! (okay…that part was a bit of a stretch)

I am debating on trying the app for my snazzy new phone (yes…it really is awesome…no…you can’t have it!) and blogging on the go cause how awesome would that be. My phone has a built in speech to text option and that my friends…is a whole new level of awesome.

Point in case:

I detest (I use this word STRONGLY) typing. It’s almost as bad as writing in my opinion. Why blog you ask? Well…that’s different. I LIKE to tell everyone what’s going on. I DON’T like to type a three page paper on the Jewish Holocaust (mainly because I REALLY DETEST the Nazi commander…I shall not even give importance by actually “saying” his name). Enter Documents to go on my snazzy android phone. Oh….my…goodness. It goes like this…open word to go…click microphone button and ….speak. NO typing. None. I literally “voiced out” a three page paper on how America could have better intervened on the Jewish people’s behalf….(seriously? duh.)

I can’t tell you how this has brought my half hazard school work to a new level of lazy.🙂 BUT…maybe now things will actually get done in a more timely manner.

So back to the awesome phone. Here’s where you all ask…well….what it the phone?! It’s the Galaxy Note (okay it’s a knock off of the Galaxy Note for a mere fraction of the price). I tell you there are still things that I am finding out about this phone that amaze me everyday. For instance..I had no idea I had a hotspot option. My teenagers are THRILLED by this…thrilled I tell you. I can watch movies on Netflix, catch up on my Supernatural and Vampire Diaries on the CW app (yup…there’s an App for that) and troll through the million youtube channels I subscribe to. It reminds me of what I have going on each week (or daily if I so prefer) and trust me…that one is a God send…nothing like forgetting you have a dr apt for your twins until the day of and have NO ONE to go with you to do the shots. Still having nightmares from that one. IT has enabled me to carry my facebook addiction to a whole new level and trust me…it’s pretty bad lol. (You know it’s bad when you find yourself trying to “like”  and email a friend sent to you) OH and….for you super busy people out there it has a dual SIM capability. This means you can have TWO numbers with this phone (one for personal and one for business)  and I just think that’s the neatest thing ever. Nerdy? Yes.

There are a million and one reasons I can go on and on about why this phone is awesome but I don’t want to be here all night.

The link to the awesome phone is below:

ANNNNNYWAYS….I’ma get off a here for now and maybe sleep…maybe. Proly not. Will more than likely look for the wordpress app🙂