Moms. We are moms. We are warrior moms. United forever by the tight bonds of motherhood, we share this journey that we hold dear. There are things we universally understand, about this amazing gift of motherhood. That very word, “Mom,” breathes certain unique characteristics, able to transcend our differences, beautifully describing one who gives beyond herself, one who loves greater than she ever dreamed possible.

We are boy moms. We raise warriors. Brave, true, loyal, kind, loving warriors. We live and breathe all things boy. We are familiar with dirt, noise, and finding rocks in the dryer. We’ve been chased by lizards, worms, and water balloons. We’ve learned about cars, trains, sports, and how to shoot off a rocket. We know how to throw balls, run fast enough to catch a speeding toddler, bait a hook, and cheer loudest for these precious souls who hold our hearts. We’ve stepped on Legos in the dark and wondered if we would survive the pain. We’ve fed cheerios to Batman, been rescued by Spiderman, and have sent a few villains to time out, all in one big, adventurous day.

We’re crazy about our boys and some days, we wonder how our hearts don’t just break wide open in the midst of such huge love. 

We are girl moms. We raise warriors. Brave, true, loyal, kind, loving warriors. We live and breathe all things girl. We are familiar with sparkles, sequins, and things that shine. We’ve played with dolls and teddy bears, and thrown balls in click clacking dress up shoes. We’ve rode bikes with cowgirls who wear pink hats and boots. We’ve had tea with a princess, face painted kitty cat faces on giggly girls, and barely survived the drama of “I don’t want to wear that today.” We’ve listened to countless stories of girlfriends, what she said, he said, and sang every word to Frozen more times than we could ever count. We know the true pain of a bad hair day, and understand the trauma of finding hair, chopped clean, from our daughter’s own head, long beautiful strands lying on the floor, right next to the safety scissors. We’ve danced in the living room, twirled and swirled, baked cupcakes, and licked the bowl clean. We’ve caught lady bugs, picked flowers, and dreamed up at the stars, all in one big, adventurous day.

We’ve learned the true meaning of “fancy,” and also learned the true meaning of love. Fancy hearts so full, we wonder how we can contain it all, in the midst of such huge love. 

Moms, we are warriors. Brave, true, loyal, kind, loving warriors. We work, we nurture, we help, we teach, we encourage, we lead, we care, we coach, we listen, we hug, we cheer, and the list goes on.

We make life…
all together…

But here’s the truth. Even warriors get weary sometimes. And some days we feel lonely, and we’ve had enough of listening to Dora the Explorer, or countless princess songs, and we find that we need a little more substantial conversation than just hearing the words, “no,” or “mine.” And we’re tired of doing laundry, and vacuuming up little pieces of goldfish all stuck in the carpet. In fact, we’re just tired of goldfish all together. And we’re weary from getting up in the night with the dear child who was sick, and the other who just had a bad dream, and another who was hungry. And we’ve changed more diapers than we could ever count, and picked up more messes, and rocked, and sang, and prayed, all these sweet ones to sleep, night after night, year after year.

And often, it’s a rather thankless job. This motherhood journey. Little ones have big needs, and as much as we know they love us, they may not be the best at always making us feel appreciated for the immensity of services we provide. Every hour. Of every single day. And often, hurried husbands, though not intentional, may get busy with life and the pressures of career and responsibilities, and the little things go unnoticed. And we know, deep down, that everyone is thankful for us, and cares about us, but sometimes we just need to hear it.