Solidarity, Sisters.

In an age of polished Pinterest impressions that bombard and shake even the most secure of  authentic and honest mothers, it is essential to have friends that we can be real with.

A supportive friend to go through motherhood with is not only worth her weight in gold but also saves millions in therapy costs. Here is a glimpse of text messages today from some of the most Christ-honoring, gorgeous, brave, and courageous mothers there are.At 9:15 am I received this:

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Time to walk out the door. “Where’s Son #3’s lunch?” you ask…well of course it is there…with the door closed and ‘speed cycle started…because everybody knows you can’t go to school with a dirty turkey and cheese sandwich.”

 

I returned a text that revealed my baby had just been pushed and smacked his head on the wood floor. Oh, how bells get rung in a house with brothers.

 

Then on to the pediatrician for double ear infections where she met a woman and child with an explosive rash and croup…Only to balance 4 boys for the rest of the day. Dad came home and said, “You know what the house looks like? Like we just went into the bank and bought a foreclosure…These people must have left mad.”

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I answered back that my standards have fallen from “Clean up before Dad comes home” to “Tidy up before the roaches come” to “Hide the evidence.”

 

Then I needed to confess to someone. I texted my sister in law, Queen of healthy choices with a heaping side of grace:

“I fell off the gluten free/non-processed food wagon. I went to Chick Fil A. I think the closest I will get to granola is eating it for breakfast.”

I received the answer: “I think you have to make the granola from all organic hand milled ingredients with hand harvested hemp and chia seeds.”

 

Then onto laments in potty training. In my frustration I lamented to another friend the joys of potty training. You can lead a horse to water and sit him on the potty but you can’t make him pee. Sheesh. I asked for some advice from a friend with similar issues. I received this encouragement.

 

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Then on to dinner.

“What is the theme for dinner?” “What?” “Italian? Mexican?”  “I’m trying to make my son eat noodles again. The theme is demon possession and exorcism.”

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Then finally we get to bedtime and the screaming finally died down.

A beloved cousin chimes in with encouragement and promises that I will survive. She repeats the words our grandmother repeated to us during the days when our little ones made us nuts. As a mother of four boys, she knew what she was talking about.

:You’re doing a good job, mama. I feel CONFIDENT that if Grandma were alive and writing today, you would have gotten a note very similar to mine. You are a woman of valor. Grit those teeth and scream along with JJ if necessary, but you’re going to make it.”

She then passed along the artwork of her son, pictured in a birthday card to his grandmother.

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My gene pool is nothing if not artsy-fartsy.

 

Immediately following this buzzed in:

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No fear. Not even kids that defy gravity.

9:20 pm from a beloved sister in law:”If there is one more trip to the potty or drink of water…” just as my own beloved said, “Either your son is awake or we have a very loud rat upstairs.” Ah yes, ROUSes. When the kids are confused for animals they are MY sons.

 

Laugh through it, my friends. We all need somebody to lean on and to laugh with. It takes a village not only to raise a child, but to maintain sanity and realize we are not alone in the glories we call motherhood.

May we remember these moments…and if we can’t, may others help us. After all, that is what this technology is meant for, right?

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