Mom

Some days I feel as though I am just the "go-to" person to be at my children's every beck and call.

Momma, I need a band-aid (Nan-aid in Ainsley-ease). And not because she's hurt but because she just likes to put them on and take them off. (Note to self...look at stock in band-aids).

Momma, why does this happen, or that happen?

Momma, don't forget I have gymnastics tonight.

Momma, what day is it? (Leighton judges her week on whether it is a "stay home" day, school day, sitter day, etc.)

Momma, can we go to Sonic?

Momma, can we go to Mem's house?

Momma, I wanna watch "Good Luck Charlie." Can you find the Disney channel?

Momma, can we have pizza for dinner? I don't like green beans.

Momma, I want to wear that dress. You know, the one that's dirty?

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't have it any other way. I wouldn't want my kids to go to anyone other but me. But as we go through our daily routines, days in and days out, I can feel overwhelmed and unappreciated.

I spend much of my time (and money) making sure my girls are cute and often forget about myself. It doesn't seem to bother me at work since I'm on the floor with kids all day but on those rare occasions I get a girls' night out, I find myself looking around at my friends and all their accessories, most up-to-date outfits, and I am not-so-put-together.

But then I remember the work I am really doing...what my hands are for, what my words are molding, what two little beings I am raising. I would wear the clothes on my back for years if it would give Leighton and Ainsley more.

And so yes, some days it feels as if I am just the "go-to" person. But I am more than that. My kids come to me because they trust me. Because I am their Mom. And I am honored to have been chosen to be a Mom to these amazing little girls.

In the end, I don't want to be the Mom remembered for the cakes I make, or that I woke up early to make sure the house was spotless before work, or that I ironed their Sunday dresses on Saturday before church. I want my kids to remember me for being there when they needed me. For playing with them when no one else was there and they needed a friend.

I want them to remember their Mom made their house a home. I want them to bring their friends home to meet their Mom. I hope in the years to come that my house will be filled with children. Yes, even with all the squealing (and drama) it will bring. And I hope kids fill this house not because we stock the fridge with Mt. Dew (however I will do that if it will help), but because this home has a loving Mom. A Mom who wants the best for them. A Mom will go to bat for them. And because of that, I hope my girls will bring their friends home and the first thing they'll do is say, "Meet my Mom..."