mother's day.

I have four kids. In those four kids, I have one who's just like me. Painfully so. If you've met me and you've met my kids for like a minute, you know- Jovie Grace and I were cut from the same passionate, explosive, bossy and sometimes tender cloth. I love her to pieces, she cracks me up, but that girl can be the turdiest turd. Just like her mama. Maybe you have one of those, too, and so you understand right now why I need to do this: 

Give me a minute to thank my mom. 

Mom, thank you for teaching me to use the toilet. 

Thank you for teaching me basic social skills. Like not strangling people, pushing them into walls or down the stairs when they touch my stuff. 

Thank you for not just whacking me with a hairbrush every time you brushed my hair and I screamed like a banshee. 

Thank you for not banning me from crayons, play-dough or food forever.  

Thank you for making me do chores. 

Thank you for not making horrible, awful fun of me (at least to my face) every time I liked a boy in Jr. High and High School. 

Thank you for not beating me when I painted Thomas with nail polish. 

Thank you for not beating me when I made Thomas eat bunny poop. 

Thank you for not beating me when I covered Keith in Vaseline. 

This could get really long and embarrassing, so I'm done. 

Being a mom is weird. 

And it's taught me more about the gospel and God's love for me than anything I could dream up myself. I'm not perfect. And my love isn't either. But even when my kids are wrecked, I love them. I'll take their sticky face kisses and their Dorrito cheese hugs. They can suck at every aspect of life and I love them. If you're a mom, you know. 

You think about them when you're away from them. You remember their sweet little smiles and tender hugs. You rejoice over their little victories like they just won the World Series- that poop that finally made it in the toilet is worth a standing ovation. You have hopes and dreams for them that would blow their little minds. You make sacrifices for them without even seeing them as sacrifices because you love them. You put them in time-out, spank or ground them because you don't want to raise little psycho-paths.  

If that doesn't remind you of God's great love for you even a little, I don't know what will. 

Mamas. 

Friends. 

Remember the gospel. Remember Jesus. Remember that His love for you doesn't change when you're "good" or when you're "bad." He loves you when you poop your pants. He rejoices with you when you finally get it in the toilet. 

I have twins who are three.

Happy Mother's Day.