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
Little Blessings Mama 