Blog of Note I HAD to Share


A sweet neighborhood mom friend of mine wrote this post regarding Mother’s Day and the truth behind what most mothers feel. I absolutely loved it and couldn’t have said it better myself. Thank you Robin for writing such a poignant piece on the reality of what Mother’s Day should mean. Love, love, love it!

Her original post can be seen here, but I copied her article because I couldn’t wait to share it. Go show her some love. ~Kat

The Mother’s Day Secret

My goal for motherhood is fairly simple:  I want my children to walk through life secure in the knowledge that they are precious and loved.  A child who feels love gives love to others.  Teens who know their worth can say no to peer pressure when I’m not around.  A young person will have the courage to really go after their dreams.  An adult will do the hard, but right, thing and raise their own family with love.  An on it goes…

But I knew all that before I had kids.  What I didn’t know was how incredibly easy is to love your children.  How that love can overwhelm you in weirdest places – church Christmas pageants, swim lessons, the restroom of Target.  Usually the most public and embarrassing places possible.  I will just tear up, and my kids will look at me all worried, and they too young to explain that I am overwhelmed at the simple joy of them.  The very fact of their sweet existences.

Is every moment like that? No, of course not.  Do I get frustrated, stumped, and tired by them?  Lord yes.  But I get why older people always swoon over my kids.  Because I have feeling you forget all that.  And, if you do remember the hard stuff when you get older, I think it becomes inconsequential.  Because all those teary-eyed moments were the good stuff.  The stuff we hang onto.  I think that’s what they mean by their admonishments to cherish these years.

And I do.

Before I met my husband and had my kids, I wished for them.  On every penny I threw into a fountain.  On every star.  At every birthday.  And here they are today knocking themselves out to give me the perfect Mother’s Day, complete with enough quiet time to write this post.  While I do love and certainly appreciate all the little gifts of Mother’s Day, the fact that this day is mine to celebrate at all is what makes it for me.  That I have the responsibility of loving each of them is my gift.

That’s the secret of all mothers, I think.  The depth of our love is really known only to us, no matter how much or how many ways we try to convey that love to our children.  They will never really know or understand why we started crying when they sang, or clapped, or pooped in that Target potty.  How that was our good stuff.  But mostly they don’t know how their love filled us up so as mothers we suddenly became women secure in the knowledge that we were precious and loved, how amazing it was, and how they did it naturally – without any goal-setting at all.

  1. naptimedesign reblogged this from printjunkie and added:

    Love this Robin – I feel the same way and yet in the daily chaos we forget this idea of what really matters.

  2. naptimedesign likes this
  3. printjunkie posted this

Note to Penny

A few weeks ago, a fellow blogger, mother and daughter in pain, shared an all too familiar tale about her mothers decision to reject her. I read her words and felt every bit of angst and confusion that I too have felt by the rejection and intentional neglect from my own mother. I felt compelled to respond, to support her and share with her my struggles in the comment posted below. This is a common issue, usually known as maternal narcissism. There are pages and pages of information on it if you take the time to Google it. It is actually quite scary how indiscreet and damaging it’s effects can be.

Here’s Penny’s at Foster to Forever’s original post. A great, authentic tale of the hurt just a few actions or lack of action (in her case) can cause. I hope you can find encouragement and light in these tough to tell tales.

“Penny – I feel your pain. I too have had a multitude of disappointments that stem from my mother’s lack of empathy, love or kindness. There is a term for this kind of parental hurt and destruction. I was made aware of it about a year ago – it rocked my world to say the least. I learned my entire childhood was a joke, I was raised by a woman who never wanted me. I am reading a book now called “Children of the Self Absorbed”by Nina Brown. It has opened my eyes beyond words to the abuse, verbal and emotional that I too experienced. The actual term is parental destructive narcissism. They cannot see it, they will never change it, and nothing can be done about it. Some of the best things to do are sever ties with that person. I am still miles from being “recovered” from the pain I endured, but the craziest part of all of it – no one ever thought this was a possibility. The DNP’s biggest weapon is their mouth and usually in private. I am still working through the details and trying to recognize all the symptoms, but this book is quite encouraging for you, the adult child, who is still reeling from the effects of this parent. Here’s an article with a brief snip it from her book.”
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