I'm addicted to HGTV. It's not because I pay particularly close attention to the design elements in their shows. I forget about those after ten minutes or so. Sadly, I don't remember many of the construction tips either. I appreciate the channel because it's one of the few that I can turn on to hear adult voices throughout my day with little ones. I don't have to worry about curse words, naked folk, or dismal news stories catching my kids' attention while I'm distracted with housework.
They stood within arms reach of one another, notes barreling from the core of shared experience. The music was their connection but their stories were the intimate bond. No words could explain the abuse each had endured and few were necessary to describe their faith. Sometimes all it takes is a look, a recognition in the eyes of another. The meaning behind the melody steals the spotlight.
"I used to sing like I knew 'what' I was doing, now I sing like I know 'why'..."
The little girls who go to school with my sons are absolutely precious. Adorable! I grin every day as I watch them bounce through the doors in hair clips and matching outfits. Once in a while I find myself wishing there was a little more estrogen in my own home, a fantasy quickly replaced by the memory of how difficult the infant years can be.
I enjoy talking to other parents and I especially love to hear about how friendships are forming in their classrooms. I hear a lot about "besties" and requests to get together. The only comments that ever force me to pause sound something like this, "I asked her if (my son) is her boyfriend, but she said they're just friends."
It's happened on so many occasions these past few years. As parents, we don't mean anything by it. We think it's cute and we're programmed to have conversations like that with our adult friends.
Sadly, no, my son can't be your daughter's boyfriend.
Here are a few reasons why...
Welcome to February ladies and gentlemen of grit! I'm so happy to be back with you following a week of ministry events, fasting and reflection. Thanks for being here - let's talk about motherhood.
They sit in the dark together, shades drawing lines on their faces from the streetlights steaming through the window. She's too tired to sneak back to her own room, or eat, or move in even the slightest direction, fearing she'll wake the baby tucked into the crook of her arm. Tears stream down her cheeks and she reminds herself to be thankful. The TV hums at a barely audible level, playing just loud enough to keep company. It's three am. Nobody's awake anywhere in the universe. That's how it feels, anyway.
Some moments of motherhood feel both peaceful and profoundly lonely all in the same second. She never knew.
M.S. in Marriage and Family Therapy. Earns Crossfit participation trophies. Disaster cook. Enthusiastic wife. #Boymom. Clutches her faith, not her pearls.