Love Bumps

I remember asking my mom to tell me about her “love bump” over and over again when I was a little girl. She would point to a tiny little dot on her right arm (a mole) and tell me about how she was so excited when she was pregnant with me that her body left a little mark to remind her how much she loved me, even after I was born. I was absolutely enraptured in how her arm could produce such a tangible reminder of love! Interestingly enough, my mom grew unique “love bumps” with all three of my siblings so we all would ask her to tell the story of how they each came to be.

“Tell us about your love bumps, Mommy!”

I have a lot of respect for my mom’s perspective. She could have lamented about she now has extra spots on her arms, complaining about how it was one of the bizarre changes that took place with her body due to pregnancy. She could have opted to have them removed. She could have hid them or acted embarrassed when we inquired about them. But she chose to view them as beauty marks, reminders of the children that came with them, and my brothers and sister and I agreed that she was more beautiful and unique because of them.

I wish I had love bumps to show my children, but I don’t have any. Instead, I have to look outward for love bumps. My mom’s positive perspective has helped me discover them all throughout our home and beyond. What could be viewed as a mess or an inconvenience can also be a physical reminder that my world has changed for the better with little ones in it. So, I choose to view these things as my love bumps...

I see love bumps in streaky fingerprints on our windows and sliding glass doors, because it may not be pretty but I would rather have smudgy reminders of my sweet little ones than a spotless house without children.

I see love bumps in muddy shoes lined up in the entryway, because I tend to take life too seriously and my children often have to remind me that one of life’s greatest pleasures is found in a good romp in the mud.

I see love bumps in blue bubble gum toothpaste residue left in the hall bathroom’s sink. I’m reminded that the little boys who mistakenly left it there had to have me brush their teeth for them only a short while ago but they are now scrubbing their teeth themselves and with that comes a little mess, a little trial and error.

I see love bumps come in the form of wilted daisy chains and dandelion and clover bouquets. Weeds to some, but custom flower arrangements made with love by my two favorite pre-schoolers.

I see love bumps in the scratches on our oak kitchen table that came from little boys filling our home with music, boisterously singing and making rhythm with their spoons on the hardwood surface, excitedly waiting for family dinners to be served.

My home is not perfect. There are scratches and dings and dents and smudges. It’s certainly not cover worthy of House Beautiful. I’m convinced these little markings my boys have left on our house do, in fact, create a reminder of goodness and beauty. Love Bumps. The world might not see the loveliness in these things. But I’m reminder that my greatest hope for my children- that they would make a mark on the world for the better- is already coming to early fruition by teaching me to find beauty in the ordinary... and even in the mess.