Tag Archives: motherhood



Dear Mom,

So, this may be a little awkward, but we’ve gotta talk.

Easy there…before you start jumping on the couch like Tom Cruise did on Oprah and hurt yourself…You’ve probably noticed I don’t talk to you much these days.

I don’t text you back, and I don’t call you enough. I know, I know, it “drives you crazy”. When we are together, I’m quiet. You always ask how my day was, but I don’t tell you (or better yet, I don’t tell you the truth).

See, Mom, here’s the deal.

I don’t trust you.

I know, that’s harsh.

{But I don’t.}

And I’m really not trying to be disrespectful here.

It’s just that I’ve realized that anything I tell you can (and most likely, will) end up on Facebook. Like the time I thought my English teacher was cute. Or when my stomach hurt, and you told 700 people you thought I was constipated.


Every time I share a picture with you, you filter the crap out of it and post it on “The Instagram” (why you add “The” to Instagram I’m still not sure).

And as if that isn’t bad enough, some of the kids at school started teasing me about the speech impediment I had as a child. How did they know about it?

Your blog.

Some punk found a link to it on your Facebook page and started reading the old blog entries…apparently you gave them a lot of material. They knew I sucked my thumb every night, even as a 4th grader, and I snuck into y’all’s bed when I got scared. Oh, and how about the time I wet my pants in 1st grade? I had even forgotten about that until they so kindly reminded me. Then there was the time I cried when I watched Finding Nemo. They had a field day with that one. They call me “Ne-no” in the locker room now (thanks to the speech impediment post).

There is no way it ever occurred to you that your blog posts would be read by adolescent kids on iPhones at a lunch table 10 years later.

But here we are. And now your sweet Ne-no’s whole childhood is lunch room fodder.

We discussed a word in Sunday school recently.


My teacher read the bible verse…

Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion. ~Proverbs 11:22

Mom, you are beautiful. I’ve always thought you were. I love that you take care of yourself, and that you dress like a lady. {Some of my friends’ moms dress like hookers. Please don’t go through some crisis and try that, ok? You’re cute like you are.}

But Mom, I’ve lost trust in you. I never know what you are going to share with other people.

Sometimes, I just want to be with you.


Without the phone, the camera, The Instagram.

Moments just between you and me. Conversations that make me think. Memories not cheapened by “comments” and “likes”.

Do you think maybe we could get a cup of coffee and not tell everyone where we went? Could we laugh about a joke and not share it on Facebook? And sometimes, let’s take a selfie of you and me and…gasp!…just keep it to ourselves. Maybe you could set it as your home screen on your phone instead of your profile picture?

I need you in my life without feeling like I’m being exploited. I want to hear “I love you” from your mouth, not my Newsfeed. If you are proud of me, look me in the eyes and tell me. Don’t post some ridiculous sappy soliloquy and tag me in it. I need to be able to spill my day while you fix your amazing meatloaf and mashed potatoes without you posting a pic of the moment on The Instagram.

Have a little discretion, Mom.

I am learning how to navigate life by watching you. I need you to lead me with wisdom. And even when I roll my eyes, deep down, I want you to encourage me to live with integrity, draw healthy boundaries and teach me how to take care of myself. I want you to be a safe place I can come when I’m struggling, in the midst of figuring out who I am. I learn more from your quiet strength than any rant or blog post.

I love you Mom. Thanks for listening. And Mom, one more thing. I really meant the part about you being beautiful. The picture of the pig up at the top was Kristi’s idea, not mine.

Love, Ne-No



***Just a little creative writing this morning from the viewpoint of an adolescent (nothing I wrote was factual to my knowledge…any coincidences are just that.) Might we graciously consider our children before we post things on social media? Our words are public for all the world to see now, and in the future. -kristi

Dear Mom…


Belly Buttons


The selfless act of carrying life within the womb. Nourishing the life, giving freely.

It amazes me that the Lord graced us with two beautiful, healthy children. The two who have belly buttons because of me.

The belly buttons.

Not because I am anything special.

Certainly not because of any merit of my own.

But because the Lord was gracious. He saw what would become of this journey.  He knew what our little family would grow to be. Yet still, what He is allowing us to flesh out in this daily walk called LIFE.

Immeasurably blessed. Twice.

A bundle of pink joy, the week before Christmas…

And a tiny man-child, born on a sweltering August day.

Two belly buttons. Two lives. Two gifts. Oh sweet Jesus, thank you for your kindness toward us.

For allowing us the gift of parenthood. Of laughter, joy, and the moments I am slack-jawed at your overwhelming grace and mercy toward our messy lives.

Lest we ever forget our roots. Motherhood isn’t easy, and for the momma of mine who did her best, I am thankful.  I am thankful to you, who carried me all those years ago.  Thanks for the belly button, Mom.

Time flies



I could not be more in love with those eyes. And don’t get me started on that grin.

Time flies.

That bittersweet time in a momma’s life when she realizes her time with young ones at home everyday is drawing short….and the moments she has him to herself are slipping quietly, quickly away. Oh, I know, kindergarten is still five months away, but this momma’s heart is swelling with tenderness that her little one, well, isn’t so little anymore.

It has been joy in my heart, life in my bones, to be home while my kids were little. I was crazy, messy, and often caught off guard by the demands of young motherhood. (who am I kidding, I’m still that way often) Yet as this chapter of motherhood quickly draws to a close, I am keenly aware of His gracious hand upon our home. His kindness to provide for us and allow me to be with them as much as possible. It brings tears to the eyes now.

Time flies.

And even though I know this momma is going to miss him terribly in the fall when he happily heads into his formal school years, I am reminded how my heart ached over the absence of Meredith, and how beautifully his sister has blossomed in these three years since she too began school. As one season quietly closes, another begins…full of promise, hope, and many memories yet to be birthed. I know. I know.

Time flies.

Oh Father, you know this momma’s heart, you know how badly I want to stop time, or at least slow it. Yet not my will, but yours. I know. I know. Time. Flies.