We are mothers.  

We find our way through the beauty and the mess, the popsicles and the bandaids, pouring ourselves into the lives of our children, giving more than we knew we had to make the shape of a happy family. 

Our hearts become knit to our little loves. The bond changes us.

 

Things a mother knows:

That her daughter’s eyes are the exact same sparkly grey-blue as her father’s. That she wrinkles up her nose as she giggles. 

The number of breaths between the last bedtime story and her boy’s first request for ‘one more’. The precise shape of the charming grin he’ll flash, how it reminds her why she fell in love with her husband. 
The perfect song to turn up to start a kitchen dance party. That the sight of her children, thrown over the shoulder of their father, swaying to rhythm of the music and their delighted laughter is enough to make a heart explode. 

 

Things she may not: 

That years later, her daughter’s favorite possession will be an old picture of her and her mother making cookies together, covered in dough, laughing. That she will see herself in the dimples of her mother’s smile.

That one day her son will be reading the same books to his boy, being won over by a new version of that same smile. That his eyes will mist, remembering what it felt like to drift off to sleep snuggled tightly into the safest place. 

That the last thing her husband will think about will be a certain kitchen dance party, many years earlier, when he caught a glimpse of the mother of his children smiling as he twirled them around, knowing with everything in him that he’d made a good choice. 

The tiny moments that shape us are easy to miss and more beautiful than you know.

I want you to be able to experience your family more than once. To return to these moments and taste life twice. 

I want your children to know the love they came from, passing on to their children the love they learned from you.

 

Families are made of stories. I want to tell yours.