Mother's day has this special way of making you see all the failures in your mothering. I'm not sure if the day just ends up being one of those "bad days" or if I am more acutely aware of my mothering and lack thereof on the day that celebrates my very existence. My kids were awful in church (the worst stint in church we've had in months)...which resulted in several kids being taken out several different times throughout the meeting celebrating motherhood. There was a lot of fighting at home and just...a general feeling of exasperation by all parties involved.
I will stop here and reassure my friends that TPM treated me very well all weekend. I basically slept for Saturday and Sunday and I really, really needed rest. So, my hero he continues to be.
But, our fairly unsuccessful Sunday got me thinking a lot about motherhood and what it means to be a good mom. There has been quite the debate in our country the last few weeks about motherhood, and I have to admit that I was surprised at the debate. I know that we don't all have the same picture of what motherhood looks like on a day to day basis, but I did think we had all come to the understanding that we are all trying to do the best we can. But, all the debate proved was that we are all too consumed with being the best mother and judging every other mother around us.
Some mothers think that "good mothering" requires weekly trips to the zoo, library, and parks. Others think it requires hours of reading and one-on-one time. Others think it means kids that can walk in a perfectly straight line down the aisles of the grocery store, not touching a single thing, and not asking for anything to boot. Others are convinced that the true hallmark of a good mother is their ability to know their ABCs and write their names before they are 4.
Over the past week, I've decided that a "good mother" is one that does the very best she can each day. And, one day "my very best" will look very different from another day. Maybe Tuesday, all I will be able to muster up is children that were able to survive the day by only consuming 5 packages of fruit snacks, 10 graham crackers, and 2 caprisuns (because that's what they snuck out of the pantry while I was trying to fnish 3 important phone calls and by the time I gave them a "balanced meal" - they were full). Maybe on Wednesday, they'll end up watching way too much TV, and played one too many video games, because I had a terrible night of sleep and could barely think straight much less structure a productive day for my children. But, maybe Thursday, I might be able to get them to the park, laugh a few times while we are there, and remember to read a story to them before they climb in bed. Those are really good days. Those beautiful days when Bug will lay his head on the pillow and say, "Today was the best day ever". But, they do not happen often enough. And, I could make myself sick from guilt every other day that we can't have the "best day ever". But, on the days where I see all my failings and drown in guilt, I find motherhood to be an overwhelming burden from which I am unable to climb out from underneath.
So, I refuse to live each day magnifying my failings. I could literally make a list of a thousand failings and still have plenty of material to continue to the next thousand. There is just no way to do it right every day all day long. But, when the success of little lives depend on your ability to succeed at such an enormous role, any failing seems like it should be unacceptable. On any day. No matter how much rest I was able to get. But, alas, Heavenly Father made resilient little spirits that are somehow able to glean the simple truths out of our constant failings. And, while there are obviously exceptions, most children only remember the charming days of their childhood. I was writing a card to my mom for mother's day and Blurbles came over and asked what I was doing. I responded that I was writing a note to my mom for mother's day and he asked if he could write something in it. I agreed. And, he wrote in big lettering, "Thank you for being a good mom to my mom".
I'm sure my mom had failings. She insists that she had many. I can't remember any of them. I'm pretty sure we watched too much TV. She had 6 kids in 7 years, so I'm pretty sure we didn't get a lot of one-on-one time. I can't remember ever going to the zoo, and we probably ate some fruit that wasn't organic.
But, we were really happy. And, our childhood was pretty magical. We are a close family and we all love our children. We try hard to be good people and support each other in the good times and bad. Somehow my little boy could see that Grandma must have been a good mom...because for some crazy reason...he thinks I'm a good mom. Maybe that could be the little success that I can hold on to, when I'm feeling like an utter failure.
Blurbles was also telling me this week how excited he was for summer to come, because then he "could do whatever he wants". I explained that he would still have a few things that needed to be done each day and that he would not probably be able to do "whatever he wants". To which he replied, "Oh, well...I'll have to wait til I'm big to do whatever I want". To which I explained that big people DO get to do whatever they want most of the time, but then I explained that Daddy has to work every day and take care of his family, which is a big responsibility. Blurbles thought for a minute and responded, "I'm pretty happy I'm a boy then, because I think being a daddy and going to work is pretty hard but being a mommy is SUPER HARD!!!"
That...random Thursday...was a good mother's day. I think I'll take that day over the designated Sunday in May. Because on that day...my son was telling me...that he could see I was doing the best I could...and that that...was good enough.
