My children are so precious to me, obviously very much a mixture of myself and my husband. My oldest is pretty much a carbon copy of his daddy in looks, yet he is also very much his own person.

Colt is 8. He is the quintessential first born: my rule-follower, my leader, my type A kid. He is very sensitive and sweet, aware of when someone has hurt feelings and very capable of expressing his own. He wants to know the plan so he can execute it. This is my kid who freaked out the other day when we went to our local high school’s spring football game. I had to take a detour past the pay booth to get my daughter to the bathroom (I wasn’t about to have her pee in her tutu). He asked me 85 times when I was going to pay, how I would get back to the gate to pay, why I didn’t pay first, was I even going to pay. Sweet Lort…..and yes, we paid.

He’s also my kid who merely looks at me when I stub my pinky toe and whisper, “shit hell!” but will straight call me out when I say something is stupid. “Mommy. We don’t say ‘stupid.'” 🤨

My husband went out of town for work this weekend, so my kids were all asking which night was their turn to sleep with me. No rest for the weary! Colt got the first night. So Friday night, I got Scarlett moved in with Gage, and moved Colt into my room. I begged them all to sleep in (“super exhausted” doesn’t cover my life right now), and added that when they did get up in the morning, to please not wake me up. “Just get on the Switch. It’s fine. You don’t have to ask me.” Then Colt, my sweet boy, freaked out and asked for paper and a pen. He ran off and made a note for me:

He said he didn’t want me to wake up and worry that he wasn’t with me. Like I would think that sweet boy was anywhere else but in the living room on that blasted switch playing Zelda. Precious thing…..❤️😂

I’m not sure why I was picked to be their mom. I never think I’m enough or doing enough or all of that mom-guilt stuff. What I do know is that for as much as I’m here to guide and teach my kids, they’re also here to teach me. They show me grace, love, and mercy more than I deserve on a daily basis. In between the whining and not listening and general mayhem and chaos, I have this child who makes sure his mommy doesn’t wake up and worry about him. Because he knows he is loved and cherished–even when I’m the one whining or not listening well enough.

Mommin ain’t easy, to be sure. There’s a loss of self, but a gaining of so much more. I often feel I throw gas on the flame of crazy around here, but truly…..I can’t be that bad. My kids are full of shenanigans and antics and me having to choose my words better (send help), but would I have it any other way?

Hell no.