Life as a Mom

Here I am with each of my kiddos when they were little

I remember so clearly the feelings I had as a young mom. I had been married almost 5 years by the time my first baby was born, and I was 28 years old. I had plenty of time to think about how I would parent – maybe too much time. There were expectations that I put on myself. I wanted to make all the right choices. I knew the things that my child and I would NEVER do. I knew the things that my child and I would ALWAYS do.

It is easy to know how you would do something before you have ever done it; the problem is the revelations that those ideations make in confrontations with real life situations.

Fun wordplay aside, I have a point to make. I did some things right. I did some things wrong. Even now, it’s not always easy to tell which parenting moments fall into which category. Life moves fast. Do we hang on tight to our children and embrace every moment, allowing them to fully experience being a child? Do we “let go” purposefully, encouraging them to them develop the independence and strength to face the difficulties of life? Do we provide them with many life experiences (sports, trips, etc.) to broaden their world view? Do we let them explore and discover things on their own to help them develop their creativity and teach them they never need to be bored? Do we share all our great, Pinterest-worthy ideas with other moms? Do we feel encouraged when other moms share their great, Pinterest-worthy ideas with us? Do we share our failures, to help other moms know we are real? Do we keep those failures to ourselves, to avoid feeling Mommy-guilt?

There is a constant tug-of-war raging in the heart and mind of many moms. It’s such an important job! We definitely don’t want to mess up this beautiful piece of heaven that has been given to us. We read (when we have time). We listen (all the time). We contemplate (usually at bedtime). We pray (all the time). We give our all, but sometimes our “all” is a lot less than we dreamed it would be.

Here’s the thing. Each family is unique – quirky, if you like. (Ours is definitely quirky. Yours might just be unique.) We do the things we like as parents, and our kids come to like these things as well. We did poetry night during the summers, wherein our kids memorized poems (think Shel Silverstein) and recited for us one night each week. Most families would find that frivolous, ridiculous, or some other –ous. Our quirkiness made it fun (or mostly fun) for us. We didn’t do sports, though, and the most athletic thing I ever signed the kids up for was swimming lessons each summer. Not doing sports would seem irresponsible, impossible, or some other –ible to many families. But in our quirky, non-athletic-genes-world, it seemed reasonable.

Along the way in mothering, I have found myself sharing ideas of activities we did as a family. We moms are great at networking, and that is good as long as we can do it without comparing or feeling guilty. Like I said before, families are quirky. What works for one won’t necessarily work for another, and honestly what I say I do might just be a little sugar coated from the reality of what I actually do. For example, I like scrapbooking. I am a photographer and a writer, and scrapbooking is a beautiful way to combine those two loves of mine. I have told different friends about the vacation scrapbooks I made, offering up an idea they might like to try for their own vacation scrapbooks. I told how I asked each of the kids to write out their favorite memories from a vacation, and then I included their handwritten notes in my scrapbook. Now that sounds wonderful, right? Like the stuff perfect mothering moments are made of! Only, it wasn’t always neat and tidy. It was hard to get the kids to write their notes. They didn’t always feel like doing it, and I often was a crabby mom by the time I forced them to get it done. Also, if I neglected doing the job right away, as is my tendency, then the kids honestly didn’t remember enough details to write a note. People – Moms – this really bothered me. I have one scrapbook with the notes all ready to write. Two of the kids wrote theirs, but the other two did not. I left those notes, loose in the scrapbook, for fifteen years. You read that right: FIFTEEN YEARS. Today, as I thought of writing this blog, I also thought of giving myself permission to give up the (nonsensical) idea that those notes were still going to get written. Seriously! This very day, I put them in the book, undone, along with a note to remind myself (and anyone else who might look at the scrapbook) that it is OK to leave some things unfinished. Life is messy. Not every good idea holds up over time. Not every started task gets finished. Not every child responds the same to the same parenting strategies. Not every mom will want to do scrapbooks or torture her kids to get them to contribute to said scrapbooks.

Scrapbook page, as completed by my kids

The incomplete page, as it was until this morning.

My note and the now-competed page

I love my kids. I think we all turned out OK, as we made our way through the hands-on years of parenting/becoming a family. I am blessed beyond measure, not by the perfection of my life or my family, but by the quirkiness. Emily, Joseph, Laura, and David, I’m sorry for the many mistakes I made being your mom, and I’m also not sorry for them. The reality is that perfection is not possible, and I don’t even think it’s desirable. Focusing on perfection drives out common sense and flexibility, two key character traits of good parents.

The next step of parenting is on the horizon for R.J. and me. We get to be grandparents, approximately at the end of October, 2018. We are thrilled, and we are ready. Or so we think! Heavenly Father, please let me listen to You above all else and to let Your perfection guide my imperfection. I love you, Lord. Amen.