If there’s one thing that brings women together, it’s the shared experience of bringing up babies. We're proud (but sleep deprived) ticket holders on the crazy train. Slap-happy anyone?
Being a great mom is a huge undertaking, especially while keeping spouses and friends feeling loved at the same time.
Our number one goal: Keep the kids alive.
When they think they can fly...hold the glue gun “all by myself"...learn to pop a wheelie, and...
...decide that football is a great sport because “It's fun to hit people and never get in trouble.”
(True statement from a real child. I won't confirm or deny whether he's mine).
After all the parental supervision, the rest of the teaching, molding, and cuddling is icing on the cake! Every time we take a moment to appreciate the art of motherhood, we feel a little less alone in the world.
So take a hot second to relax and pour that second cup of coffee.
Here are the 10 BEST Motherhood Quotes in History...that is, in the history of the Gritty Pearl:
You did it! You rocked childbirth and motherhood came at you in full force.
You dreamed and prayed. Waited. Suffered those nasty underbelly cramps as you shimmied your way through Zumba eight months pregnant.
You and your husband even put together the crib a whole week before your due date. Who cares if one of the bolts is on backwards and you can’t remove it, short of a construction miracle? The eco-friendly, allergen-free, non-gender biased dust-ruffle covers it up anyway.
As far as we’re concerned, you #NailedIt!
In the thick of the mom routine, you're like a pro on autopilot. Nothing surprises you anymore.
Feed. Wash kids. Nap. Potty train. Send to school. Clean house. Do personal work somewhere in between. Love husband. Repeat.
You could do this thing in your sleep. In fact, you are sleeping—standing at the kitchen sink. But somewhere in the chaos of the daily grind, it's easy to lose perspective. Moms try to be everything to everybody. We love hard--so hard that we don’t realize it when we’ve gone off course.
Here are some bad habits we need to kick as moms...
Spiders and cobwebs cloak the front porches lining our streets. Kids are over-extended, but vibrant with energy from trunk-or-treats, block parties, and school festivals. Mine certainly are. Six o'clock came way too early for the Gemelli household this morning. I can appreciate the fact that not everybody participates in Halloween. I get it.
But as for my family, I'm going to tell you how Harry Potter became an evangelist this week. And J.K. Rowling might drop her butter beer at the news.
My Kids Can Be Selfish and So Can I: Three Ideas for Building "Otherness" (And #GritUp Writer's Collective)
It's August already. How did that happen? Time flies as the beach beckons, complete with an oversized umbrella and a glass of sweet tea. Many of us have been on the wedding circuit these past few months. Rather than traveling the Tour de Nuptiale, perhaps you've celebrated an anniversary recently. Summertime brings more than its share of opportunities to examine our own relationships as we lend our support to others'.
There are nine of us women. The colors in our eyes are varied - shades of chocolate browns, hazels, greens, and the brightest blues. Our bodies are agile, slow-moving, thin, tall, round, and petite. Our ages range from eighty-seven to eleven. We’re grandmothers, mothers, and young women waiting to discover the rest of our lives.
I call us family.
It’s spring break here in Wilmington and we’re entering week three (year-round schedule). Though I always dread the first few days of our routine change - the boys bickering over games, taking turns, and having constant "fairness" disputes - by the end we’re in sync, and I hate to send them back to class.
This time, the transition looks different. As our kids hit the books, my husband and I will slip away to celebrate our first ten years together. A gaggle of incoming family will be in charge at the Gemelli house so that a couple of tired parents can find rest under a palm tree or two.
Like many of you, the majority of my time is spent as mom, wife, and whatever else is asked of me. Over the years, it’s been easy to lose sight of the simple woman I’ve always been - a daydreaming daughter of God, enthralled with the dialed-down, simple life that used to come naturally.
Returning to her is a purposeful practice that I’ve adopted over the years. As I pack my suitcase and envision my impending escape from responsibility, I remember the words of April Lakata Cao. Her wind-through-the-hair reminder is one that I come back to time and time again. It's about the little things imprinted in our memories, the smells, the freedom, the mistakes, and living to the full.
Here’s hoping that you’ll be inspired to spend time with the you who gets lost in the shuffle too.
Light up the room,
When I was nineteen I had a jacked-up Jeep with big tires. I bought it that way, trading in my sensible, tan, automatic Corolla for a stick-shift Wrangler. To this day I don’t know what possessed me, but I drove that green monster off the lot, lurching and stalling along the way. (Did I mention I had no idea how to drive a stick?)
I never made it home. I ran out of gas on a hill and panicked when I couldn’t figure out how to stop from rolling backwards.
How often do we climb a mountain only to forget where we came from?
February. For some of us, new diets are becoming a struggle and frustration is growing. We're reminded by the pretty faces staring back at us from magazine covers that summer will be here in the blink of an eye. Just when I feel pressure to look my best, I remember that you might be experiencing the exact same thing. I sent this love message to you for the first time three years ago, so internet kin, it's time for a body image revisit...
I've circled this island in my kitchen no less than fifty-two times and I swear, there's NOTHING to eat in this place. I'm tired, irritated, and after putting the boys to bed, I cleaned the you-know-what off the side of the toilets and tile flooring. The stool overflowed again. Some days there isn’t enough Clorox in the world to accomplish the super feats of Mom. It’s only 8pm. I drag like a weary, homemaking soldier headed home from battle and want nothing more than to settle into the respite of my comfy, tan couch.
Please join together in welcoming Carrie Boos to the Gritty Pearl this week. Carrie is a dear friend, a fierce woman of faith, and a survivor of parents' worst fears. We trust that her story will fill you with hope and embolden you to face your own giants.
I can remember the worst day of my life like it was yesterday. I was 34-years-old, seven months pregnant with my third girl, and working in my classroom. Throughout an anxious day of teaching, I'd been waiting for a call from my doctor. When it finally came, my life was turned upside down.
I’m sorry, you have cancer. It's spread.
No bumper stickers ornament my truck. Confession: I just can't be trusted with them. No Jesus fish. Family stick figures. Church symbols. Product names. We do have a soccer magnet that my kids like to move around the side panels, but the sport's known for attracting hotheads. I guess if I make a traffic no-no then, I told ya so.
M.S. in Marriage and Family Therapy. Earns Crossfit participation trophies. Disaster cook. Enthusiastic wife. #Boymom. Clutches her faith, not her pearls.