Mothers Part 3

(Photos by Julie Campbell Photography.  Julie is the mother of 4.)

It's Mothers Day! 

My children greeted me with breakfast in bed and all the sweet treasures they'd made at school. 

It was heavenly. 

Here is an essay I submitted to Nie Nie for her Mother's Day Essay Contest. 

(I didn't win, but I loved the Mothers that did.)

Motherhood is ….

By Tiana Kinnon

 Motherhood starts with a push or two or ten, really for hours on end.  It’s the first moments when you get to meet the tiny being that’s been growing.  Your first celestial kiss and a whole new level of bliss. Intoxicating whiffs of a sweet newborn, the realization heaven is near.  10 fingers, 10 toes, your dimples, his nose. 

It’s waking up to the early breaks of sunlight listening for the roar of feet galloping down the hallway tripping over themselves and bursting through the door.

It’s blankies with a distinct odor of saliva and fabric softener nuzzled on your nose.

It’s a first word, ma ma, da da, ba ba ba.

Motherhood is footie pajamas followed by snuggles all the way down to tiny toes.

It’s milk let down, nursing pads and perfectly layered clothes.

It’s jam packed diaper bags and holding little hands.

Motherhood is refrigerators cluttered with precious works of art, school photos, and coveted awards and spelling stars.

It’s hugs so tight you can scarcely breathe and wet lip kisses.

It’s chasing, finding, tickling, laughing, crying. 

Motherhood is mud pies and marmalade, billowing bubble baths and soapy Mohawks.

 It’s ballet pink and fire engine red, yellow rain slickers and black patent leather church shoes.

It’s chasing down the garbage truck.

Motherhood is yelling “HURRY!” Then whispering “slow down, stop growing” in sweet slumbering ears.

It’s watching a wobbly 2 wheeler riding down the street with tears running down your cheeks.

It’s birthdays, blessings, baptisms, graduations and weddings.

Motherhood is handprints on windows and on every bathroom mirror.

It’s Good Night Moon, Horton Hears a Who, Where the Sidewalk Ends and the Little House series.

It’s prayers. Prayers for patience, prayers to keep them safe, in some cases uttered every other minute.

Motherhood is hayrides and picking pumpkins larger than little arms can hold.

It’s a two am Christmas morning with sleepy blurry eyes whispering to you Santa has arrived.

It’s Easter egg dyed fingers and chocolate bunny rabbit cakes.

Motherhood is gummy smiles, baby teeth and all too soon toothless grins.

It’s roller skates and jump ropes, scooters and skateboards.

It’s squeals and shrieks of glee the first time they see the ocean and sandy, sandy toes.

It’s marbles and swings, tree houses and discovering butterflies and bees.

Motherhood is sandcastles and purple kelp, and sea shells.

It’s full hearts and empty pockets.

Motherhood is rock collections and ear infections, stubbed toes and broken bones.

It’s red wagons, jogging strollers and chasing dragons.

It’s teaching, learning, practicing patience, rare moments of peace, exhaustion and unexplainable joy. 

Above all, Motherhood is more LOVE than a single heart could ever hold.  A love that envelopes every fiber of your being.  Motherhood gives you incredible strength and yet makes you as gentle as a dove.