On Being A Mom…
Most days I have no idea what I’m doing. And the days that I think I do, well just give me a few minutes to find a way to prove that I don’t. Being a mom doesn’t come with an instruction manual…whether born from my body or placed in my arms ½ way around the world.
And so it means that I mess up a lot. But it also means that there is no one to keep score, no checklist that I have to meet, no set of rules or regulations or anythings that I have to make. As a result I often then impose my own criteria and standards on myself and I’m learning that the standards that I think I have to meet are impossible. No one could meet them. And so I’m not really messing up in anyway really. And I need to learn to give myself that freedom and be ok with that.
My boys clearly aren’t caring about the standards I think I need to meet…just look at the cards they made me for Mother’s Day
Well ok, so it’s hard to tell what Edric’s thoughts are based on his amazing artwork, but the smile and grin on his face as he handed it to me was all I needed to know that he is proud of me as his mommy he loves me.
And to Caedmon, while I’m not sure how often I’ve swung from ropes (but clearly enough to be good at doing it), to have him say that he loves that I play with him in the sand the most means a lot. I love just playing with him (clearly it’s what I do to relax), and it means a lot to him. I am super excited about the cement truck he is going to buy me some day. I may need a bigger garage, and I’m not sure one will fit in the parking lot at work…but those are just minor details.
And I love the Leighton knows that I say “I love you”, because that is something I do say often to each of the boys. And I think he’s proud of me being a doctor and listening to people’s hearts, so all those doubts on how working is affecting my children, clearly are in vain.
And so I may not always have a plan for dinner each night until shortly before we actually have it or often I turf that over to Clint anyway. And I’m not sure when the last time I turned in a preschool reading log was. And I’m pretty sure my son went to his speech evaluation with the school district last week wearing a dirty shirt that he pulled out of the hamper when I wasn’t looking because I realized after we got there that he smelled like old milk. And the list is just going to get longer, especially as we wait to bring Paxton home, and who knows how many little feet (that keep growing and need new shoes frequently) will run through our hallways and call me mom.
And so with each new day and sometimes each new minute I am learning to lay my expectations and self made rules down and take a deep breath, rely totally and fully on the One who has called me to be a mom and Who gives new strength with each moment.