::the one where I have a bedtime epiphany::

As tiny babies bedtime was the sweetest part of our day. A warm bath followed by the smell of lavender and freshly laundered foot jammies. We made our way to that old rocking chair. The one passed down for generations and loaned out by my sister, her children far to big to rock these days.

I rocked ever so slowly holding each one tight breathing in their perfection. Songs were sung. Prayers were prayed. One last kiss and down they went for the night.

I dreamed of bedtimes filled with snuggles and giggles as they grew older. I looked forward to reading books like Anne of Green Gables and Little House on the Prairie. I made up stories that I could tell each night.

Instead of our nights ending like the movies with children snuggled close and falling asleep to the sound of their mothers voice reading and singing, our nights end in tears and frustration.

A yearning for peace caused me to approach bedtime differently. To change my posture and responses in hopes that she would follow suit.

Hey Eisley, I have an idea. Tonight when I say it's time to go to sleep you say, [okay mommy]. When I bring you a drink of milk you say, [thank you mommy]. We will hug and kiss and you will say, [goodnight mommy]. Okay? When you do that my heart will say, [MWOM, MWOM, MWOM]. Because my heart said [MWOM, MWOM, MWOM], your heart will say, [mwom, mwom, mwom].

We read a few more pages of The Little House on the Prairie and I started with the routine.

Eisley, it's time to go to sleep.
Okay mommy.
Here's your milk.
Thank you mommy.
Hugs & kisses.
Goodnight mommy.

I head towards the door and turn back with a smile...[MWOM, MWOM, MWOM]!
She giggles and lays down for the night.

*just writing with heather the eo

::thoughts on motherhood [mother letter edition]::

to the mothers that make me a better mother,

to the one that labored for hours, screaming, crying, cussing and praying, knocked out and woke up to a five pound bag of sugar, or so you say, thank you. for the i ain't skeerd of anything attitude you passed down. for the if you want to be something, make it happen. for the i want more for my kids than i had. for the i will love you more even though i was loved less. for the everyone makes mistakes. for the love of reading and writing. for the thousands of hugs and i love you more's.

to the one that welcomed me to love the one she first loved with all of her heart. thank you. he is my dream come true. for his love for others and me. for his grace to counter my crazy. for the choose your battles wisdom. for the peacemaker example found in you both. for the johnny-on-the-spot, go the extra mile, family first legacy.

to the one who wrote the letter while I carried my first child, thank you. for words that spoke volumes to my unprepared soul. for words that have carried me the past five years. for words that are branded on my heart and referenced regularly. for words when i have none, or shouldn't. for words gentle and true. for words warm that wrap me tight and comfort when miles separate us.

to the one who writes and lifts me with cards, thank you. for the questions that no one else think to ask. for the concern. for the remembering of appointments and all that is important to me and calls to check in. for the journey of our first born shared. for the meals provided and good conversation. for the i-never-meet-a-stranger friendliness.

to the one who shares my love of crafting and coffee and raising a boy, thank you. for the boys are pistols but love thier mama's motto. for the always on my side. for the late nights hunched over sewing machines and shared secrets about motherhood. for the table covered with food, the breaking of bread among friends.

to the one who reminds me of this fleeting season, thank you. for the wise words of motherhood past. for the hugs and kisses and the this too shall pass's. for the jesus words that lift me and remind me why i am on this path. for the memories of your mama and how you hold her dear and why. for the love, that loves and loves some more. for the lesson on the value of praise.

to the one i haven't come to know yet, thank you. for when our paths cross you will offer insight i did not have before. you will be the mirror that reveals a flaw to improve. you will delight in things gone unnoticed. you will be a grace giver and we will bond knowing i want that too. you will be strong where i am weak, paths crossing because god knows, when one falls down the other can help her up. you will be mother, as i am mother and we will raise our coffee mugs high in solidarity of this journey. the messy beautiful.

one thankful mama,

melissa

i am writing in honor of the release of Mother Letters and joining the My Mother Letters link up party. i met amber a couple years ago and she is truly a lovely person inside and out.

 Mother Letters is art in the form of stories, letters and photos from many hearts to yours. Words and images heard and understood in the soul, now articulated about every stage of motherhood

::thoughts on motherhood [scandelous grace]

:photo source:

all is grace has taken new meaning.
she is learning grace from me.
i speak of grace unending, unconditional but i practice grace with limits.

she has sassy mouth. go figure. she is afterall my kid and lord knows sassy mouth has been my downfall for years. speaking without thinking. geez, i'm still guilty of this. i shoot for sacasm and come out just plain mean or so i've been told. i expect grace for this. i neeeeeeed grace for this.
and so does she.

she crosses her arms in defiance, lips out, eyebrows down. my mind flashes to that photo from 1982, instagram-earlybird-style, with my coke-bottle glasses, the perm my mom swears i asked for, and i see myself.

she is me.

i have learned that rules and shame lead to failing efforts of trying to be good.
grace and encouragement lead to goodness that comes from within, from above.
we are the cup and when filled with grace we spill grace.

god let me spill grace.