Hi, friends. 🤍

There is something my husband and I talk about sometimes that always gets me thinking:

How do our kids see us?

Not how we think they see us. Not how we hope we look from the outside.

But when those little eyes are looking at us every day… what do they see?

And maybe an even bigger question:

How will they remember us one day?

Will they remember us as the parents who played with them? Who were silly with them? Who sat on the floor and played pretend? Who listened to their endless stories and answered their one million questions?

Or will they remember us as always being busy?

Always working.

Always cleaning.

Always doing something.

Always looking at our phones.

Always saying, “Just a minute,” “Not right now,” or “Mommy is busy.”

That thought gets to me.

Because finding balance is hard. So, so hard.

There are responsibilities that don’t disappear just because we have children. There is work to do, food to make, laundry to wash, bills to pay, houses to clean, appointments to remember, messages to answer… life keeps moving.

But right in the middle of all of that, there is this little person asking:

“Mommy, why is blue blue?”

“Why is purple purple?”

“Why can’t I touch that?”

“Can I really not touch it?”

Let me touch it really quickly just to make sure. 😂

And sometimes it isn’t even about the question.

They just want us.

They want our attention. They want us to look at what they’re looking at. They want to tell us what they’re thinking. They want to show us something they discovered for the very first time – even if we’ve seen it a thousand times.

Because to them, the world is still so new.

And there is something incredibly beautiful about being the person they want to share it with.

Time, Please Slow Down

I get emotional thinking about how quickly these years are passing.

It feels like I just had my little baby girl, and somehow she’s already getting close to turning three.

Three?!

Come on, time. Slow down a little bit.

I want to stay here just a little longer.

I want to remember the tiny voice. The little hands. The silly questions. The toys everywhere. The pretend games. The way they call for Mommy. The way something so simple can make them unbelievably excited.

Because this version of them won’t be here forever.

And this version of me won’t be here forever either.

We are growing alongside them.

The Childhood I Remember

Sometimes I think about my own childhood.

Cell phones weren’t really part of our lives. There was no Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, endless scrolling, Reels, or notifications constantly asking for our attention.

I remember going places with my parents. I remember being home and playing in the backyard. I remember playing with plants and random things around the house.

My parents could give me some papers and suddenly I had an entire office. 😂

I played office. I played doctor’s office. I played pretend. I had this huge imagination.

I played by myself plenty, but I also remember playing with my mom and dad.

And when I look back, I have so many good memories of my childhood.

That’s what I want for my girls.

I don’t need their childhood to be perfect. I don’t think any childhood can be.

But I want it to feel full.

Full of love.

Full of laughter.

Full of imagination.

Full of family.

Full of moments when Mommy and Daddy stopped whatever they were doing and entered their little world for a while.

I Want Them to Remember a Mama Who Was There

One day, when my girls are grown, I hope they remember me as a mama who did everything she could for them.

A mama who fought for them.

A mama who worked for them.

A mama who served them.

A mama who made their food and cared for their home.

A mama who kissed their little boo-boos.

A mama who listened to their stories – even the really, really, really long ones. 😂

A mama who played pretend.

A mama who laughed with them.

A mama who prayed with them.

A mama who taught them about Jesus.

A mama who loved them fiercely and, most importantly, made sure they knew it.

I want to be a really, really good mama.

Not a perfect one.

A present one.

And I know I won’t get every day right. There will be days when I’m tired. Days when work needs more of me. Days when I’m overwhelmed. Days when I probably spend too much time looking at a screen or worrying about something that feels urgent.

But maybe being intentional doesn’t mean doing everything perfectly.

Maybe it means remembering, over and over again, what matters most.

Putting the phone down.

Sitting on the floor.

Listening to the question.

Playing the game.

Giving the hug.

Saying “I love you” one more time.

Praying together.

Because someday, the toys won’t be on the floor anymore.

They won’t ask us to play pretend.

They won’t need our help getting dressed.

They won’t ask why? fifty-seven times before breakfast.

And I have a feeling we might miss even the things that exhaust us today.

Our Greatest Gifts

Our children are among the greatest gifts God has entrusted to us.

And what a privilege it is to raise them.

To love them.

To guide them.

To teach them to follow Jesus.

To pray over them and with them.

To watch their personalities grow and their little minds discover the world.

So maybe today, we can ask ourselves:

When our children look back at these years, what do we hope they remember?

I hope mine remember the love.

I hope they remember the laughter.

I hope they remember Mommy and Daddy playing with them.

I hope they remember feeling safe.

I hope they remember prayers before bed and conversations about Jesus.

I hope they remember that even when life was busy, they were never too small to matter and never too unimportant for us to stop and see them.

Most of all, I hope they remember knowing – without ever having to question it…

Mommy and Daddy loved us so, so much.

So let’s enjoy them, friends.

Let’s soak in these ordinary days that one day won’t feel ordinary at all.

Let’s put down the phone sometimes.

Let’s play pretend.

Let’s answer the millionth question.

Let’s tell them we love them again and again.

And let’s ask God to help us raise these little blessings in a way that, many years from now, when they close their eyes and think about home, they remember a childhood filled with love, faith, laughter, and the beautiful feeling of knowing:

I was loved. I was seen. I belonged. 🤍

With love & grace,

Tay

Hi, friends!

I hope you all had a wonderful weekend. 🤍

Today, I just wanted to write a simple little post about something that crossed my mind while I was watching my husband play with our girls.

I was watching them together – playing, laughing, being silly… and I found myself thinking about how special it is when we actually stop what we’re doing and just be with our children.

Not doing something for them.
Not cleaning around them.
Not getting dinner ready while they play nearby.

But actually getting down on the floor and playing with them.

And then I started thinking…

How will our children remember us when they grow up?

Will they remember Mom and Dad as the ones who played pretend with them? Who played hide-and-seek and catch? Who sat on the floor and played with stuffed animals, baby dolls, and all the little toys scattered everywhere?

Will they remember us being silly with them, laughing with them, and entering their tiny little worlds?

Or will they remember us always being busy?

Because the truth is, there is always something else to do.

There is always laundry.

There are always dishes.

There is always work.

There is always something to clean, something to organize, an email to answer, a message to respond to, or another thing waiting on our to-do list.

But sometimes, our children don’t need anything from us except our attention.

They just want us to see them.

My daughter will sometimes come up to me and say, “Hey, Mom!” and then start telling me something in her sweet little toddler gibberish. 😂 And sometimes there isn’t even really anything she needs to tell me.

She just wants me to look.

She wants me to see that she’s feeding her baby doll.

She wants me to see what she’s doing with one of her little stuffed animals.

She wants me to watch her playing with her little sister or with our dog.

Sometimes that’s it.

“Mommy, look at me.”

And when I really think about that, it makes my heart so emotional.

Because one day, she won’t call me over every few minutes to show me the tiniest little thing.

One day, I won’t have baby dolls and stuffed animals all over my house.

One day, there won’t be tiny feet running through the rooms or little voices calling, “Mom!”

And I know there will be beautiful things about those seasons too. Watching our children grow is a blessing of its own.

But this season?

This one is so precious.

Our children are one of the greatest gifts God could ever entrust to us.

“Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.” – Psalm 127:3

And sometimes I think we get so caught up trying to take care of everything that comes with raising a family that we forget to stop and simply enjoy the family God gave us.

So this is my little reminder for myself today, and maybe for another mama who needs it too:

Soak it in.

Put the phone down for a little while.

Sit on the floor.

Play with the baby doll.

Pretend the stuffed puppy is talking.

Play hide-and-seek for the hundredth time.

Listen to the story that doesn’t make any sense.

Look when they say, “Mommy, look!”

Laugh with them.

Hug them.

Be silly.

Let them see your eyes light up when they walk into the room.

The laundry can wait sometimes.

The dishes can wait sometimes.

The emails can definitely wait sometimes.

Because everything else will still be there later.

But the time we have with our children while they’re little?

That part doesn’t wait.

It goes by so incredibly fast.

Take care of your babies. Take care of yourself. And whenever you can, stop for a moment and enjoy the beautiful little life happening right in front of you.

These ordinary little moments might just become some of their favorite childhood memories someday.

And maybe some of ours, too. 🤍

Have a beautiful and blessed week, friends.

With love & grace,

Tay 🤍