motherhood | Kay Trotter

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A Promise For My Daughter

Tears ran down my face as I read this today. Maybe it’s because I am mom and cherish every moment of the gift of motherhood. And maybe it’s because I have been preparing to speak about our abused and neglected children, and how “humanity’ has turned it’s backs on these precious little souls.

“A Promise To My Daughter” is a call to reclaim our humanity and say no more neglect, because                        “yes I will come, I will always come.”


A Promise For My Daughter

I’m tired and she’s tired. And she’s been weeping with frustration, her face a smudge of red cheeks and snotty trails.

I go down on my knees beside her little, chubby legs. They’re curving over the edge of her green froggy potty stool and she is glaring hot blue eyes into my face. I reach for her and she swats at me and doesn’t want the comfort I know she wants.

I gently take her hands and pull her up. Her tender self all frustration and sweat and nakedness melting into me. I cup her with my arms and my words and slowly stroke those damp curls back from her cheeks.


I’ve got deadlines and to-do lists and no clue what to make for dinner. There is one quiet window before the boys come home and Pete has made it back early and we’re hoping for a snatched ten minute nap. But she’s inconsolable for reasons she can’t put into two-year-old words yet and I’m on my knees reaching for her.

I will always come, baby.

She’s in my arms and slowly beginning the ritual of stroking my right arm. Her curls are warm and sweaty and that pudgy baby cheek fits just under my chin.

I will always come.



I dance with her slowly – the rock and roll of motherhood – and I know this is a promise I can stake my life on.

I will always come.

When you forget your lunch. When you are sheep number 5 in the Christmas play. When you take up the recorder and bleat all the way through the Easter service. When you get that bad hair cut. When you think you want to be a beauty queen, when you swear off fashion altogether.

I will come.

When the mean girls make you want to shrivel inside your skin. When a teacher intimidates you. When you intimidate the teachers. When you think you can sing and try out for a musical, when you get laughed at and people point fingers at your hair and your shoes and your too bony hips.

My darling, I will come.

When that boy breaks your heart and you’re stranded at a college miles away, I will come. When the internship you thought was part of your calling falls through. When a friend gets sick. When the car crashes. When you have more long distance charges than you thought possible. When you run out of gas, chocolate chip cookies and faith.

I will be there.

When you say your “I dos,” when you you start your happily ever afters, when none of it quite feels like you thought it would. When you don’t know how to pick a mattress, when the sofa is in the wrong place, when you regret what feels like signing your life away to someone else. When you keep on keeping on. When you remember how to say sorry. When you need a safe place to say how cliche you feel all “barefoot and pregnant” I will so be there.

When the baby won’t sleep and the world’s on fire with sleep exhaustion.

Sweetheart, I will come.

When your husband’s out of work. When you’re down to one car and have moved in with his in-laws. When your job threatens to break your heart. When toddlers make you question your sanity. When you realize that you’ve made the worst mistake a woman can make. When you’ve run out of tears and still the tears keeping coming.

I will come.


When you move and move and relocate again. When you pack boxes and dreams and hope. When your life is a world of duct tape and questions. I will still come.

And when your home is warm and your heart is full. When you’re at peace. When you need someone to share the joy, to watch the kids, to admire the dimples. When you want to remember that old recipe for melktert, when you still can’t pick a sofa, when you wish you’d never said yes to the dog.

When you don’t know where you’re going. When you’re the most sure of yourself you’ve ever been. When you’re holding onto faith with just your fingernails. When you’re singing, “Jesus loves me this I know” and you mean it with every tiny, beautiful, miraculous part of your DNA –

Zoe, always I will come. One hundred different ways I will come when you call.

I will rock and roll you with my love and the promise that I will help you get back on your feet. I will hold your hand. I will rejoice. I will babysit. I will pass the tissues. I will wash the dishes.

I will come.



And the day after. And after.

And then some.

lisa-jo-3Guest Blogger Lisa-Jo Baker: First and faremost Lisa-Jo is a mom. A mom who sincerely believe motherhood should come with its own super hero cape. And on most days she can’t find her car keys, her cell phone or her mind. Most nights she think her heart will burst wide open from all the messy love stuffed inside it for those sweetly snoring kids And many mornings I want to quit motherhood before I’ve even served the first bowl of Cheerios of the day. A mother who absolutely maintain that motherhood is the hardest and most transformative role we’ll ever had.

Yep Lisa-Jo is just like you and I.

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Would I ever stop sacrificing myself for my children? Not in a million years.

Diapers & Daisies…Motherhood said simply

Guest Blogger Sarah: Diapers & Daisies….Motherhood Said Simple.

A blogger who started blogging as a way to keep track of my memories, capture the absurdity of my children and to have a little chunk of cyber space to call my own.

Be sure to read all of Sarah’s blog post at:


v. the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered as having higher or more pressing claim.

To say you make sacrifices as a mother sounds endearing. It sounds admirable. And it is.

If we are holding true to definition when discussing the sacrifice of motherhood, it means “to surrender something prized (your independence and self) for the sake of something considered as having a higher claim (your children).

Every mother makes sacrifices. If you are not making sacrifices as a mother, you are most likely doing something wrong.

But at what point are you sacrificing too much?
At what point do you begin losing yourself?

Not too long ago, I began feeling as if I had lost myself. I had no career. I had no free-time. I had no opportunity to think about the things that I wanted in my life, or the dreams I had. I existed only as somebody’s mother. I am not even sure that I counted as a wife.

Chasing dreams is impossible while chasing children.

Pondering my future is never penciled into the daily schedule between soccer practice and piano, so it never fits in. It gets pushed aside for another day. Or the day after that. Or after that.

So, would I ever stop sacrificing myself for my children? Not in a million years.

But lately, instead of looking down upon the mothers who hire a babysitter for the night out, I envy them. Rather than judging mothers with careers outside the home, I admire them. They know that they are an individual that is separate from their children. They have a title other than “mom.” They enjoy car rides of silence and lunches that are eaten without having to spoon feed someone else synonymously. Their schedules do not include only activities intended for tiny human beings. They do not speak in baby-languages all day long, and find themselves saying “boom,” and “oopsey daisy” far too much. They are not just the diaper changer, of the chauffer.

I spend everyday of my life wondering how I can make my kid’s dreams come true; how to make sure that they are happy, healthy, satisfied, and enjoying their life—all the while, forgetting mine.

I’d like to think that is why I started my blog. To get back to who I am. To put words on paper with meaning. To connect my passion as a writer with my love of being a mom. Moreover, connecting myself as an individual with myself as a mother.

So I wrote down some ways to remember me. Hopefully they also help you.

  1. Don’t forget to dream. Dream big. They may not all come true. It may take you 20 years to write your book- but start. Write down the first word. Be in progress. Do not allow having children to hinder your dreams. They may take longer to reach, but we all know that slow and steady wins the race.
  2. Pencil you in. Whether you write in, “spa,” or just “mom time” on the calendar. Put it down on paper. Have a check box beside it, and hold yourself to it. Give yourself time on a weekly basis to exist as an individual.
  3. Explore yourself. Being a mother opens up new doors everyday. Keep your eyes up and heart open while you explore new outlets and means of inspiration. Try gardening. Start a blog. Paint. You can involve your children as you search for new passions. Start inspiring yourself right now. Who knows, maybe you will inspire your children as well.
  4. Live in the moment. Stay present. Never allow your life as a mom to become monotonous. Be spontaneous always. The world is out there, be apart of it. Take your children by the hand and lean into it.
  5. Don’t be a slouch. Put your face on. Remember your skinny jeans. Look your best and you will feel your best. When you feel good, you are more likely to take the world by the balls (yupp, I just said that). Face the world with your best foot forward always.
  6. Your children do not have higher claim. You matter too. You are also someone’s child. You have dreams. You are a separate entity. You cannot make your children happy if you are not happy yourself. Don’t forget to remember you.

Learn skills that change your life and the life of your child.

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