Before I had kids I had this vision of how it was going to be. I was going to be the Mary poppins of moms. Always level headed, always there with the right answer, always fun and full of energy. Our days would be full and the laughter would be contagious. They are only little for so long and I fully intended to make the most of it.
Then I had kids, and I watched as month by month the visions that I had crumbled, I would look in the mirror and see the farthest thing from what I had envisioned and I was confident I had failed in every way. I would see other moms at the park with the energy I just couldn't muster and I would know that not only had I failed, I failed while others thrived, proving to myself that the motherhood I desired was obtainable, just not for me.
I did everything right, I followed all the rules, took all the advice, I breastfed past a year, I monitored temperatures hourly during colds, I refused to have the TV on while my child was awake, and would only have cartoons on if it was. I kept my phone put away and we would go to the park, beach or zoo almost every day. Yet I truly believed I was failing, because I would compare my whole life, to someone else's five minutes. I would see a mom at the park playing tag with her kids while I stood there pushing my kids on the swings praying they don't ask me to remind them how to pump, and I would feel like a failure. I saw the kid having a meltdown while his mom sat down calmly next to him talking him through his emotions, and I would remember the day before when deep breaths weren't enough to make my voice as gentle as hers as I frustratedly reminded my son that he needed to share the swing with his sister. My friends would talk about how their child didn't sleep through the night so they stayed up all night and watched movies instead and I would remember begging my daughter to just go to sleep because I couldn't take another night of no sleep… and I just knew, I had failed. Because my whole life, compared to their five minutes, was a disaster.
Then I began talking to my friends, you know the real kind of talks. Like when you ask someone how they are and they actually tell you. I talked to the moms whose parenting I truly admired and they were honest. I befriended the mom who chased her children in a game of tag and learned that they have been stuck up in the house for a week, she shared her guilt over the fact that she just cannot pick up one more race car and has instead busied her hands with housework to get out of playing more often than she believes should. I listed to my friend who stayed up all night watching movies and learned of other nights when her frustration was so intense she begged her little man to sleep instead of coddling him. I heard my mom friends confession of a time her child had a meltdown in public and she felt everyone's eyes on her as she shouted at him because she just couldn't take it anymore. I listened to all of these amazing moms tell me about their private moments and still thought they were great moms. Because they are. These women whose parenting I so admired would break down to me because they felt like the world's worst mother and I would tell them “you are human, frustration is going to happen. You don't wake up every day with the intention to do them harm. You put yourself last 24/7, you don't even eat until you become dizzy because you are so busy filling their needs. You are constantly striving to make their life better, You had a bad moment, but that does not make you a bad mom.”
Even while I offered this advice I never listened to myself. Until the other day, my kids woke up early so we grabbed their favorite push toys and did about 400 laps around our condos. Then we met up with some friends and went swimming for 3 hours only coming in because it was nap time. When they woke up after only sleeping for a hour I was spent, I had been up since 6, It was only 1:30 and we still had 5 and a half hours until bedtime, and I just couldn't do anymore. My house was a mess, my pantry was empty meaning nuggets were for dinner, my kids both had the energy of a squirrel on crack and I just wanted to lay on the couch and not move. I went through the motions, I sat on the step as they ran through the yard, I denied their requests to circle the condos, I denied their pleas to go to the park, and I ignored their constant tattling when the other stole their toy. I was certain I was the world's worst mom. Then I thought about the morning, how much we packed into the first 6 hours they were awake. I realized they had naps while I did the laundry and I gave myself grace, I told myself that it's ok that we aren't going to the park after swimming all morning. It's ok that I don't have energy for a game of tag or a water fight after being up all night with my youngest. Not every day is going to be Disneyland, But that doesn't make me a bad mom.
There are days where I am the waterfight mom, the arts and crafts mom, the mom actually laughing while she chases her children through the big toy. More often than not I am the mom that bends down while Noah has a melt down and helps him use his words to express his emotions and I calmly rock those sparkling eyes to sleep at 3am. But I also have my moments where I simply cannot stand I am so tired, and where I mentally cannot take one more fit. Where I just want her to sleep through the freaking night because there is absolutely no reason for her to be awake. And that doesn't make me a bad mom.
Not every day is going to be Disneyland. And I may not ever be Mary Poppins. But I wake up every day with the intentions to do my best. I pray every night for more patience than the day before, and there is no one on this earth that can love and protect my babies the way that I can. So I am going to stop comparing my whole life to someone else's five minutes. We all have bad moments, but we arent bad moms.
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