I can’t give you perfection, but I can give you all of me, without holding anything back.

I can give you my whole heart.

I can let you see me laugh and cry and everything in between.

I can admit when I’m wrong (even if it takes me awhile to realize sometimes).

I can hold you when everything seems to be falling apart.

I know I will disappoint you sometimes. I wish that wasn’t the case, but it is.

I will hurt your feelings. I will snap when I should be kind. I will be hard on you when you need softness. I know that I will, (I have already).

I will let you down. More than I’d like to admit.

I can’t give you perfection, dear one, but…

I can listen when I realize I’ve hurt you. I can apologize and do my best to do better the next time.

I can be your safe place when you mess up (again) and believe me, you will mess up a lot.  We all mess up a lot, my love.

My eggs are often overcooked and I always burn the toast, but I will give you enough to grow and think and dream. It will be enough to be an astronaut or a lawyer or an artist.

I am messy and disorganized and I forget to sign your school papers.

I’m fiery and sometimes I react before I think it through.

I’m grumpy, tired, and stressed more than I’d like to be.

I can’t give you perfection, not even close…

But I can give you room and space to feel your emotions too.

I can give you my listening ear to hear your stories, your fears, your struggles, and your dreams.

I can give you my best and my bravest. I will never stop loving you or striving to do better by you. You are my treasure, my star, my firework.

My heart is yours, forever and for always.

I will partner with you and stand by you through every hardship, and through every milestone.

I won’t be perfect, but I will be present.

Despite how I fail, I pray that you will know how widely and deeply and safely YOU ARE LOVED. The thing is, dear one, I can’t ever give you perfection, but I don’t expect perfection from you either.

Feel free to make a mess and to make mistakes. I will be right here by you. I have lots of experience with messes and we are in this together;

Every. Single. Step. Of. The. Way.

Love,

Mama

***

This pic is compliments of my amazing friend Liz. You can follow her sweet lifestyle blog on Insta &Facebook.

For more words like this, you can follow me here, on Facebook, and on Instagram.

I may have overshot my expectations.

First things first we got Starbucks. I got a triple, and I got cookie dough cake pops for the girls. They thought they were too sweet and now I don’t even know if I’m raising them right. Don’t worry, I ate all of them because WE DO NOT WASTE IN THIS FAMILY.

Target looked like it had been pillaged by vikings. There was barely even any clothing left to purchase in that place. Also, in case anyone is wondering, every child in America is a size 6 apparently. If you also have a six-year-old,  I will salute you in the hallway. I will know it is you by the high-waters and stained Disney T-shirt you “picked out” for their first day of school. Sorry kids, this year is not your year.

The stores were made up of frazzled Moms who decided to wait until the last minute. I think it is clear I have found my tribe: the procrastinators. The ones who go school shopping when there is no more Crayola paint sets left. We will be the ones trying to sneak our RoseArt into the supply bins. NO ONE NEEDS TO KNOW.

I heard more tight lipped interactions between mothers and children than I have in the last two years combined.

“Lola, come here sweetie…”

“Lola, come sit on Gramma’s lap honey, I said stop running please….”

“Lola sweetie…”

“LOLA GRANDMA SAID COME SIT ON MY LAP RIGHT NOW!”

“Lola honey…”

“LOLA RIGHT NOW STOP RUNNING!”

It was not a great day for any of us.

In case you were wondering, Lola did not stop running.

At one point I was digging through little girl jeans willing there to be a magical size change when my 6yo began to whine relentlessly.

“OAKLEE,” I said, “Do not whine please, this is FUN, WE ARE HAVING FUN.”

A woman listlessly rummaged through a pile of graphic-tees next to me. Her shoulders hung heavy while her children played tag among the sweatpants. She had lost her will to parent; I recognized this because I have been there.

She looked up with dark, hallow eyes, “You keep telling yourself that,” she said.

I nodded in solidarity.

At that point I decided it was time to checkout. I spent $100 and it is still unclear what exactly I purchased. I will tell you what I did not purchase, and that was shoes. I tried my very hardest to find them and it just really wasn’t happening for us. This is probably because my first grader and I have different interpretations of “gym shoes”, mine being: “gym shoes”, her’s being “ballet slippers with cheetah print”.

We gave up, agree to disagree, whatever it’s fine. Except, now I’m probably going to have to homeschool because my kid doesn’t have shoes.

We comforted ourselves with small cheese pizzas and chicken strips.

So, now we are exhausted. I have a sodium and caffeine hangover and we are the proud owners of a sweater with emojis on it.  SCHOOL, WE ARE READY FOR YOU…sort of.

Also teachers, I humbly thank you, because seriously.

I’m too busy making mistakes and praying my kids turn out alright anyway.

I’m too busy looking at my musty smelling laundry pile and wondering if I should fold it or light it all on fire.

I’m too busy teaching my kids good work ethics which means saying “stop playing and keep cleaning” over and over until everyone is crying.

I’m too busy yelling that everyone needs to STOP YELLING and then wondering if I will ever be able to stop yelling. It’s not really looking good for any of us.

I’m too busy letting my three-year-old use a pacifier and my six-year-old wear Cinderella underwear as a bathing suit.

I’m too busy trying not to fight with my husband in front of the kids even though sometimes we make each other crazy (ESPECIALLY IN THE CAR). I say trying, because last week my three-year-old asked me why daddy and I sometimes argue like little kids.

I’m too busy wondering if that wet spot is from water, juice, or urine.

I’m too busy trying to assess if that Pterodactyl scream was a “we’re having fun” scream or a “blood has been shed” scream.

I’m too busy making risky calls like should I let my son wear that shirt with spaghetti sauce on it to church and do I tell my girls that it’s actually a “vagina” not a “bagina” even though bagina is way more awesome?

I’m too damn busy apologizing to my kids. I’m apologizing for misunderstanding them, for getting grumpy, for bumping their head on a doorway, for not believing them that their tummy hurt until they projectile vomited and for throwing away that ginormous popsicle stick art project they brought home from school.

I’m too busy apologizing FOR my kids, like, “sorry they ate all your snacks and asked you if there’s a baby in your belly”.

I’m too busy being overwhelmed by the fact that it’s already dinner time AGAIN and the food is still at the grocery store.

I’m too busy because this parenting gig is flying by at lightning speed and I’m hanging on for dear life hoping that when it’s over they will look back and say we were loved.

I’m not going to judge your parenting because IT’S HARD and YOU are the qualified one.

I’m not qualified because I don’t worry about your kids like you do. I don’t lie awake at night wrestling with decisions about schools, and friends, and behaviors, and obstacles in their precious lives. I don’t love them, ache for them, feed them, or say sorry to them like you do. I don’t know them. I don’t know their dreams or what makes them tick.

I’m eleven years in and I am now more certain than ever that there isn’t “one way” to do this well. I’m just trying to figure out how to parent my own kids and how many margaritas I can have without getting a hangover. Life is complicated.

If we can’t be real and share the struggle, then it just doesn’t work for me.

I’m a fan of all MOMS.

I’m too damn busy for anything else.

***

Cheers friends! For more like this you can follow me here, on Facebook and on Instagram!

Yesterday you asked me why your older brother always gets to choose. We were staying in a vacation rental and I’d given him the choice of beds since he’s the tallest and the most likely to be uncomfortable. “He’s always going to be older,” you said, “so he’s always going to choose.” You imitated me in a perfected ‘mom voice’; “‘Malachi gets to choose because he’s ten’; pretty soon it’s going to be, ‘Malachi gets to choose because he’s eleven;'” you laughed and I laughed, but I understood that your question was real and you felt something deeper than you let on.

I also understood that I was guilty as charged.

Sometimes I don’t see that you get lost in the shuffle between oldest and youngest. I miss it, and I’m so sorry.

You’re big, but you’re not the biggest. You’re little, but you’re not the littlest. You’re strong, but you’re not the strongest. You don’t know the most about math or reading. You can’t run the fastest or stay up the latest. Someday that will change, but for now this is your truth. Sometimes I think that is a lonely truth for you.

You little sisters are handfuls in their own right. They still need us to brush their teeth and roll their salad into a tiny ball to help them eat it. You don’t need that much help anymore, but you still need some.

You’re older brother is becoming a pre-teen; his body odor and the rules for him are changing. As he grows and changes, I can see that you feel a little left behind. You want to keep up, but it’s not quite time.

You are in the middle: “not there anymore” and “not quite there”.

And that son, is right where you belong.

Let me tell you something, let me set the record straight from now until forever:

YOU ARE SPECIAL.

YOU ARE UNIQUE.

YOU ARE SO SO VERY IMPORTANT TO US.

No one else on the planet could fill the place in our hearts that belongs to you. We will never give it away and we will never share it with someone else. That space is for you and for you alone.

It doesn’t matter to us if you’re the strongest or the fastest or if you know more things than your older brother or your younger sister. We love you for you. You don’t need to hurry to catch up, or try and slow down. You are special to us because you are you and you belong right exactly where you are.

We love you, we love you, we love you.

There’s never been someone like you before, and there will never be someone like you again. This family wouldn’t, couldn’t, be the same without you. You are the core, you are the rhythm, you are the piece of upmost importance.

You have a fabulous heart and kind intentions. You have the best sense of humor and you are the protector of those you love. You are an observer and you notice things the rest of us never would. You are diligent about justice and fairness. You are quick on your feet and keen in your observations. You aren’t loud. You choose your words, you think deeply, and when you speak it matters.

I’m sorry, Son, that sometimes you feel lost in the shuffle. I’m sorry that you sometimes wonder where you fit and if you belong. I’m so sorry that sometimes you notice that your vote and your voice don’t seem to matter as much. That’s my fault and I will work on it.

I’m learning Son, thank you for teaching me.

You may not be the tallest or the oldest, but next time we stay in a vacation rental I want you to choose.

Love,

Mama

For more like this you can follow me here, on Facebook, and Instagram.

You are not going to get advice from me on teaching toddlers to read, or getting your kids to stop gagging on their vegetables. I could however offer a step-by-step guide to watching them chew on the same vegetable for two hours, until you eventually give up and let them spit it out.

I am not very perfect at parenting, but I do love my kids enough to cuddle with them while they smell like pee, and I feel like that’s kind of a lot.

I’m not perfect, but I am enough…and so are you.

I enjoy them enough. 

Sometimes I smell their hair and I kiss their cheeks. I laugh at their jokes and I marvel that I am so blessed. Time stops in moments like that and everything is perfect and worth it.

Other times I am unsure if I will survive the hours of 4:00-8:30 pm, and if one can die of overexposure to bickering.

One can. I’m sure of it.

I enjoy them enough.

*

I am good enough at bedtime. 

Sometimes we read together. We snuggle on the couch and I read them Hardy Boys or Anne of Green Gables.

Other times I race through a bedtime song like I’m Alvin the chipmunk. I punctuate it with a kiss and I run outa there like it is a hostage situation. (Because it is). They cry out after me that their water is old, that their backs itch, and their underwear is twisted. This is when I hide behind the freezer door shoveling cookie dough ice cream into my mouth, wondering who will give up first…me or them.

I am good enough at bedtime. 

*

I am together enough. 

We eat meals together. We love each other, and we laugh together.

I also lose all school papers even though they come in a convenient shade of neon and my daughter (age 6)  just asked me that, “if I’m going to come to her school today could I please wear ‘real’ clothes?” Then, on the way there (in case she wasn’t clear earlier) she asked me if I remembered my pants.

I am together enough.

*

I am fun enough. 

Sometimes I take every single thing too seriously. Like crumbs and clutter and teeth brushing. I have an out of body experience while I am lecturing them and I wonder if they will remember anything other than me being grumpy.

Other times I laugh so hard with my kids that my stomach hurts.  We play games, we go on hikes, and we dance in the living room in our pajamas.

I am fun enough. 

*

I’m good enough at housekeeping. 

Sometimes I pick crumbs off of the carpet and throw them under my couch. Sometimes the downstairs bathroom causes me to imagine the Health Department coming to my house and posting a D- in my front window. I fantasize that they will shut us down and we will be forced to eat at our parents house every single night from now on.

That sounds wonderful.

Other times my house is vacuumed and my counters are clean. I’m playing coffeehouse radio on Spotify and there’s a candle burning.

 I am good enough at housekeeping. 

*

I am good enough at self care. 

Sometimes I cannot recall my last shower.  I go to the grocery store with a pillow imprint still on my face and a pair of sweats that the 18-year-old cashiers never wanted to know about.

Other times I wear makeup and I brush my hair…and nothing…not a thousand rabid hyenas can keep me away from a ladies’ night.

I’m good enough at self care. 

*

I am a good enough wife. 

Sometimes I’m a great listener and an epic encourager. We laugh together and dream together and he is truly my favorite person.

Sometimes he gets all the brunt of my frustration. He gets my snappy responses and my rolling eyes. Sometimes when he needs a pep talk I say, “Why did you do that?”

Which he loves, for the record.

I am a good enough wife.

*

I am good enough at nutrition. 

Sometimes I declare it a pizza night. We use paper plates and I share my love affair with ranch dressing.

Other times I buy large bags of organic carrots and force feed my children spinach. I plan meals and I worry if they’re eating too much sugar.

I am good enough at nutrition.

*

I love them enough.

I LOVE MY KIDS. I love them in all their messy, smelly, ridiculous, and hilarious glory.

I love them and I love them and I love them…

and that’s what makes everything else I do enough.

It makes everything you do enough too Mama.

We love them enough.

*

I have had a lot of requests for this hoodie, so here ya go…

I’ve recently become connected with amazon as an influencer. My shop is https://www.amazon.com/shop/wonderoakblog

For more like this you can follow me here on Wonderoak, like my page on Facebook, and follow @wonderoakblog on Instagram!

JOIN THE WONDEROAK SISTERHOOD

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For every 20 shirts sold, one shirt will be sent to someone in need of some sisterly support (this is done via nomination on Facebook and Instagram).

Sister, I am with you is a message of solidarity between moms and women. It says I AM FOR you no matter what.

I don’t care if your house looks like the bottom of a cereal box. I don’t care if you’re makeup is fresh or three days old. I don’t care if you smile a lot, cry a lot, or yell a lot. I don’t care if you breastfeed or bottle feed, or if you like a glass of whiskey at the end of a long day. I don’t care if motherhood fits you like a glove or like a too-tight pair of pants that ride up the nether regions. I don’t care if you house smells like lavender or dirty diapers. I don’t care if you stay at home or have a full-time job. I don’t care if you’re keto or paleo or eat a lot of frozen pizza and carrot sticks.

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She is such a treasure, as all kids are.

It is scary to share such a gift.

The day before when I tucked her in at night she said, “Mama, I’m scared.”

I said, “I will not leave until you are ready,”(knowing that her ready would be in the 2.5 seconds it would take her to make a friend).

The morning of, between bites of pancakes, she informed me, “Mom, actually, I want to do this on my own. I don’t want you to come.”

Watch out world.

“Okay,” I said, “I will leave when you are ready for me to leave.”

As we walked her into her class, her bright eyes were filled with wonder behind her purple rimmed glasses.  We unloaded her things and found her name tag. “Bye Mom!” she said easily as she gave me a squeeze…

…and like that she was off.

As I send my daughter out into the world of Kindergarten, here are a few things I want her to know:

You are loved. Not in a way where you have to perform, or get it right. Not in the way of A+ papers, or being the fastest runner in class. We love you from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes, and nothing, not the worst mistake, could shake our love or make it less. Nothing. Some days you will feel awesome about you. Some days, you will not.

But remember: you are always (on your best day and your worst day) most definitely and infinitely LOVED.

You just need to be you. There is not one other person in this entire world that is the same as you. Not one with your eyes or your nose or your heart. No one with the same sense of humor or the same way of painting a picture.

You will want people to like you, and sometimes it might seem like you have to be the same in order to belong or be liked – but don’t believe it. The best kind of friends will like you just the way you are.

Be that kind of friend. Just like you are unique, and wonderful, and special – so are the kids around you. There is no one on the planet just like them.

Treat each person like a unique treasure…because they are.

Don’t worry when someone says that you “aren’t”. That you aren’t fast enough, smart enough, pretty enough or that you aren’t their friend. It hurts, I know it does, and it is okay to feel sad or even angry. I wish I could be with you in every moment that something like this happens, but I won’t be.

In those moments remember that you are WONDERFUL. You are wonderful just the way you are. You are wild, sweet, creative, kind, and beautiful. I couldn’t be more proud of you.

If you let them, those other words will fade away to nothingness.

Hold on to the good things with all your strength, and let the bad things wash off of you.

You don’t have to grow up fast. There are lots of years to be grown up. You don’t ever have to stop loving teddy bears and dolls – unless you do. No one is ever too old to imagine, to dream, or to sing at the top of their lungs: these are some of life’s greatest gifts. If someone tells you that what you like is for “little girls”, don’t worry about it – it is good to be little.

Be generous. When you feel lonely, find someone who looks lonelier than you and ask them to play. When you feel unsure, find someone and tell them how wonderful, smart, and beautiful they are. I promise, that this will make your heart feel better too.

Honor your teachers. Your teachers will give you gifts that will shape your life forever. Mommy and Daddy are so very grateful to them for what they sow into your future. Always treat them with the most respect and your best listening ears – and don’t forget to tell them “Thank you” often.

You will fail. You will hurt a friends feelings or you will not do very well on a test. Sometimes you might answer a question wrong in front of everyone or you might get in trouble at recess or spill your lunch. That is ALL OKAY. Never ever do you have to be perfect. Mistakes are the best part of learning. We are so very proud of you ALWAYS, especially when you don’t get it right.

We are here.

We are here to talk about everything and anything.

All you need to do is show up each day with your whole heart.  With that, you cannot fail (not really). It’s not possible.

Go out and conquer the world little one! We will be forever with you, cheering you on.

You’re off to great places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting…so get on your way!!

-Dr. Suess

Special thanks to Marianne Wiest Photography for these insanely amazing photos – she has such a gift! Check her website and follow her on Facebook and Instagram!!