an ode to those making homes with boys

We buy band-aids in bulk.

We manage to look amazed (and not even a little grossed out)
when a worm is dangled under our nose.

We pick up Lego pieces invisible to the naked eye.

We make rules like
'No throwing boogers'
and 'No swords at the dinner table.'

We do eleventy-hundred loads of laundry a day.

We are terrible at car crash sound effects
(but we make them anyway).

We pretend to be dragons
and dinosaurs
and knights
and pirates
and big scary sock-eating monsters.

We kiss milk mustaches.

We know the difference between
a 'we're just having good loud fun' noise
and a 'someone's about to go to the ER' noise.

We find pebbles in the dryer.

We sneak into their rooms at night to stare at them
because it is the only time
when they are quiet and still enough to let us.

they all start somewhere

Above are the opening 2 chapters of N's first novel.

Things I love about this:

1. The author, who turns six later this month, wrote it without any help.

2. Almost every sentence is exciting! enough! for! an! exclamation! point!

3. All CAPS on the dramatic last words of the sentences. Despite repeated attempts on my part to ascertain the source of this unusual writing technique, the author refused to divulge his influences.

4. References to flora.

5. Mom was not burned after all [sigh of relief].

what i would say to you (if you were not me)

Dear friend,

It's OK. It's OK to be useless. It's OK to be sad. It's OK to need help.

Who gave you permission to say those things about yourself? You are God's beloved child, created for his glory and redeemed by his grace. He delights in you. Yes, even now, when you feel you are at your worst, when you feel like a failure, when you have nothing to offer, even now - he delights in you.

This is a hard stage. That is just facts, it has nothing to do with your efficacy or skill. It just is, unequivocally, a tough stage of motherhood.

You can only be what God made you to be. You are only as useful as the grace he gives you at any given moment. If you find that God is pleased to render you useless sometimes, don't despair. Rest.

Nothing you do or fail to do can change the love of God for you, his child. You fight this, and if you're honest, you don't really like this about God. Surely, if you do things right, he'll love you just a little more. But his love does not fit in your hand. You are thinking in teaspoons about a love that floods the oceans. Toss away your measuring cups and drown in it.

Love,
The Me I Am To Everyone Else