"You heard me tell her we had a long drive home and she needed to use the potty. You heard her tell me she was scared the toilet would flush while she was sitting on it."
"He stepped aside and tried to make a few calls. Hugging his daughter and grabbing his head, you could tell he was heartbroken. This woman next to him at the front counter heard the whole thing."
Now your friends just know that you are human. You didn't stop being strong. You didn't stop being capable. You aren't going to be an outcast. You are going to open a dialogue that needs to exist between us as mothers.
When I seek to punish or control my kids with harsh words just because they aren’t behaving exactly the way I want, I need to call my response what it is. It’s not a bad day. It’s not a mom fail. It’s not a joke. It’s sin.
“Baby, I need you to stop crying about everything,” I say to my 4-year-old son, followed by a heavy sigh. Another day, another sob fest about something that broke his little heart. He is my sensitive soul, my middle child, my gentle spirit.
"Being an older mom gives you a special perspective. You no longer worry about the little things, and you laugh easier. You can relax in your good credit score, financial stability, and stress-free life. Most of the time, anyway. Wink, wink."
"My sister sat on the couch with me as I painstakingly tried to pump through severe engorgement, and as she rubbed my shoulders, encouraging me to make it through just one more feeding session, I broke down in tears and told her I was so sorry. She looked at me shocked. Why, exactly, was I apologizing?"
“Mama, you got this. You are enough.” My heart sank when I read the last lines in an article on a leading website for Christian mothers. My heart sank, because it was my article.
