Don’t be deceived this picture doesn’t do the bump justice.

35 weeks!! I know I still have a few weeks to go, but I am ready for this baby to come out (besides the fact that we don’t have names picked out) and praying I do not go late. The boys have been ready for the baby for the last month, but I have to keep reminding them that we need the baby to keep growing otherwise it will be in the NICU for awhile like Grace and they definitely do not want that because they are already calling dibs on who gets to hold the “new baby” first.

This pregnancy has gone by so quickly even though it seemed everyone told me it would be tough to be pregnant during summer, it seems we have been so busy that the heat hasn’t really bothered me. Now with the boys starting school in a month, I have been prepping all the school supplies and uniforms to make sure it’s taken care of before this little one makes its debut.

Being pregnant this time around has been a lot different than with Grace, other than monitoring my progesterone levels everything has been looking great, hoping it continues. Still I have a lot of anxiety about labor and delivery and everything surrounding it. Will I have to have another c-section, will there be complications, how will the kids adjust, how will Grace handle everything she is still such a baby, will I be able to give enough attention and love to each of the kids, what if I am in the hospital on the boys’ first day of school and the list continues.

I am trying to remind myself that this is God’s timing and in his timing he will take care of the details. These beautiful lives he has gifted our family with and with it the ability I need to be the mother they each need. Uncertainty about what the future holds, but knowing he holds it. Letting go of what I can’t control and allowing him to control it.

A friend sent me a link to a prayer called A Novena of Surrender, with the beautiful words “O Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything.”

In my mind I had the evening all planned out. Aaron was out for a few hours with the boys and Grace was ready for an early bedtime after missing her afternoon nap. I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish after putting her to bed and having silence in the house. I sat down to write a post and soon after I hear Grace crying from her room. I go in comfort her and get her back to sleep. Fifteen minutes later she wakes up screaming, same routine. Thirty minutes later I do it all again.

One of the harder lessons of motherhood is my time is not mine whether it be day or night. You are at the status of always being wanted by the little ones in your house and while I appreciate the fact that my children find comfort in my being with them at 4:00am there are days when it starts to weigh on you. It never fails every time I plan to get up early to get a head start on the day Grace always seems to have the same idea.

Don’t get me wrong I absolutely love and adore my children and love being a mom. It’s just that some days are really hard. There may be no particular reason. Sometimes it’s everything adding up, lack of sleep, lack of balance, lack of adult conversations, lack of sunlight and warm weather. When I feel myself getting to my breaking point we switch scenery fast, if weather permits go outside or load everyone in the van to walk around a store or take an afternoon drive.

In any state of life there will be moments when the days are difficult, but I have found that the vocation of motherhood has with it an even higher calling. We are called to completely give of ourselves at any moment of the day and to do so joyfully and with great love. Not an easy task and something I have fell short of many of times, but an ideal I will daily continue to strive for.

While the world devalues the importance of motherhood and tells us we aren’t living to our potential if we don’t have a professional title, what they don’t see is the souls we are shaping, the lives we are forming and the hearts we are teaching to love.

Some days it can feel like we are in the trenches, but it is the hard work, sacrifice and love that nobody notices, most times not even ourselves, that is making the most impact in the world.

“If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.”  Mother Teresa

(My entertainment as I prepare dinner, music to my ears!)

A few weeks ago we attended a pumpkin festival in a small quaint town, beautiful trees lined the water as we watched the boats come in. As we made our way out on the long dock, lined with large rocks to get a better view the boys decided they want to jump the rocks. There were small crevices between most of the rocks, but big enough that my little men could slip through and into the water.

Being protective mom I immediately told them no. Aaron on the other hand said, “let them be boys”. Of course my peanut gallery chimed in, “come on mom, we will be fine, don’t worry so much.” I closed my eyes and walked at a quick pace as I could feel my heart pounding, picturing the worse scenario possible.

I have two brothers, one older and one younger so seeing how boys act is not completely new to me. Aaron is one of nine boys and I guess he has a little more experience. Already 21 months in to this parenting gig, I still find myself trying to figure out how to raise boys.

In a society that wants to mask gender differences all together and education systems that expect 6 year old boys to sit just as still as 6 year old girls. I find myself going against the tide, trying to find the balance, while still letting my boys be boys.

Boys are loud, rambunctious and wild. Hunters and gatherers at heart and always ready for the next adventure. Yet still sensitive. When their hands have been drenched in mud, the house brought to new decibel levels and every inanimate object made into something throw-able they come to me wanting snuggles and hugs.

I have been asked on numerous occasions by complete strangers if my sons behave, if they listen to me and while observing their politeness they still ask, why are they behaving so well. Feeling sometimes like I am under the microscope in public, especially because we are a multi-racial family. My little men are such gentlemen opening the doors for others and always using their manners, still sometimes they need to be a race car driver or a fighter plane in the grocery store and make the accompanying sounds to go with it.

I am still learning, but I like to think I have come a long way. So if you visit us you may walk into a wrestling match in the living room, a game of floor hockey downstairs or balls flying across the kitchen. I apologize if you see us at the park and my sons are screaming and jumping off the swings, climbing up the slide and scaling the highest peak of the jungle gym. In appearance it may look like I am being irresponsible, I like to think of it as parenting at it’s finest. Just letting boys be boys.