Love

My mom has 9 kids. For real. I'm not talking like 4 kids of her own, and 4 of her husband's kids, and 1 niece that has always been like a daughter. No. She has birthed 9 children. She was a girl scout leader, a 4-H mom, a farmer's wife, and a teacher. She is a God fearing woman. And she has two masters degrees.
She is the nutella of motherhood.
 
This woman survived crappy diapers and mucousy vomit and gum in her carpet and rocks through windows and smart-mouth back talking and bad grades on report cards and calls from principals and kids past their curfews FOR FORTY YEARS.
Now that is love.

It really doesn't matter if you are Waylon's mom or my Mom or Ghandi's mom. Parenting is hard.
But I love it.

I think it's really weird when people say things like, "I could never do what you guys do every day."
Uhhh, yes you could.
And you would.
See he's my son. I love him unconditionally. It's what parents do.

So I know I tend to go on and on about the crap on my walls or the kid on my kitchen counters or the homemade cake torn to shreds. I get a little wrapped up in venting and I forget to stop to appreciate the bigger picture.
I have three amazing, beautiful kids. They are healthy. God has blessed me in ways I never could have dreamed. And He has shown me the meaning of love.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Corinthians 13:7

When you become a mother, you bear all of your children's burdens. You believe in their innocence, and hope for their future. You endure all their hardships. And for this, you are given love.
Whoa.

Obviously the Katzer Valentine's Day party was a real hit.