The best me in what matters most.

Sometimes I think about ideas for blog posts, but then I don't have time to sit down and write them so they fade away, and/or I don't feel like I have the mental capacity to turn my jumbled ideas into intelligible thoughts. I love this season, but being mom to three girls (3.5 and 15 month twins) is high energy and requires lots of attention, so I don't have a lot of stamina left when I do get a quiet moment.

I have been thinking about the idea of "the best me" and motherhood recently in the last weeks, and it's funny because (without talking about it together), my friend actually just wrote a post about the same idea. I do feel like motherhood has made me the best version of myself, but there is a lot of expounding on that topic too for it to really make sense. It's something I think is true, but hard to describe.

In a lot of ways, on the outside, the idea that motherhood has made me my best is laughable. I wear my hair in ponytails way more than before kids. My wardrobe has drastically changed. I do like to "get dressed" in the morning, but why wear fancy clothes when I am on the floor so much during the day and going to end up with food bits and drool/snot smears anyway? When our twins were newborns, if I brushed my teeth before noon it was a good day. I am happy with my body and so thankful that I was able to carry three babies, but my stomach will never be the same again.

Our house looks very different. I am a stay at home mom, so there are many hours spent in our house. I try my best to keep it clean and I love a clean house, but wow, three small kids produce a lot of dirt and messes. If you come over unannounced (which you are welcome to do), be prepared to step around mounds of toys on the floor. All the sippy cups that say they are leak proof still manage to dribble out some drops here and there. There is almost always at least one load of laundry sitting on our table, whether it's waiting to be washed or waiting to be folded. At least one child needs something from me almost all the time. Cleaning up their high chairs and the floor around them after a meal feels like a full time job in itself. I also feel like I can't get the smell of poop out, whether it's coming from the trash can, a dirty diaper laying around I hadn't had the chance to throw away yet, or actually in one of their diapers. (How do babies have the talent to almost always save their poops for right when they get a clean diaper on? It's astounding.)

I love having a calendar, being organized, and trying to stay on top of everything. Before kids, I almost never forgot anything. I used to be able to just put something in the oven and not have to set a timer because I would just remember. Not anymore. I still would like to pride myself in not forgetting much, but it happens sometimes. The other day I asked my sister if they had looked at any more houses recently, when they had moved into their new house already and lived there for over a month. I was face timing her, in her house, when I asked this. Giant face palm. (To give myself a little credit, I had been up in the night several times cleaning up throw up before this conversation, but still, I was so embarrassed.) Recently at the park, Ellory had pooped, but it was one of those hard rock like turds that was just sitting in the diaper without leaving any smears. (Sorry, TMI alert.) In true mom-of-three fashion, I didn't want to get out the whole diaper bag and wanted to still keep my eyes on the other two, so I leaned her over the trash can (super discretely, of course), opened the side of the diaper, and let the turd roll out into the garbage. I am about 70% proud and 30% ashamed that I did this. I also really do like to be on time to things, but that's a rarity these days.

I really don't mean for the above to sound like complaining, because I'm meaning it as reality, and my days really are a lot of fun. While sometimes I feel like a mess, I also feel so much joy in this season. It's busy and loud, but that sort of chaos is beautifully rewarding too. I love being a mom. I love that I get to stay home with my girls. I love that I can be there for them all the time. I'm thankful for a healthy body to be able to care for and play with them. Being a mom has shaped, refined, and grown me in the best of ways. How dependent my children are on me reminds be of how dependent I am on Him. I am honored that He chose these three for Kley and I and that we are entrusted with their care. The love I feel for Norah, Lucy, and Ellory is so raw, whole, and deep. Our biggest prayer for our girls is that they would grow up to love and serve Jesus. The role we get to play in teaching them about Christ and modeling how to be a Christ follower is humbling. I get frustrated and I fail, but then we can talk about grace and forgiveness.

I will always be mom to them, but it's not lost on me that future seasons won't be as consuming as this one. My girls will always need me, but not in the way they do now while they are young. When I'm in a difficult moment, I try to remind myself that one day I will miss this. One day I will miss not having to snap little onesies anymore. One day I won't have to cut food up into tiny little pieces. One day they will all go to the bathroom independently. One day my girls can shower themselves and they won't need me to give them a bath anymore. One day they will ask to go play at friend's houses. One day they will go to school.

So, for all the one days that are to come, I choose to embrace these days. And when I forget, I will remind myself and choose again, for what a gracious gift He has blessed me with in being wife and mom. While I always have room to grow, I do feel like I'm the best me in what matters most. I'm so thankful for the rich blessing of my family. Oh, how He loves us.