I sometimes wished I was that mom that baked cookies and did crafts. I am not.
I sometimes wished I was that mom that spoke in a soft and calm voice. I am not.
I sometimes wished I was the mom that planned elaborate parties. I am not.
I sometimes wished I was that mom that had the entire year organized. I am not.
I sometimes wished I was the mom that said, “Golly gee kids!” I am not.
I tried. I tried for a very long time to be “that mom” that I thought I was supposed to be. I looked around and saw everyone doing it better than me. How easy it is to get caught up in the comparison game. It is so exhausting trying to be something you are not.
So I stopped. It was like the scene in the movie, “Forrest Gump”, where he had been running and running across the country and he just stopped one day and said, “I am pretty tired, I think I will go home now. And just like that, my running days were over.”
Instead, I said, “I am pretty tired, I think I will be myself. And just like that, my comparing days were over.” I can’t begin to tell you how freeing that was for me. I just became tired. It took so much energy to be something I was not. So, here I am.
I am the mom that makes mistakes daily, apologizes, and moves on.
I am the mom that offers chocolate during that time of the month.
I am the mom that yells sometimes.
I am the mom that has sensory issues and does not hug all the time but when I do, it matters.
I am the mom that gives my kids one trip to school the entire year when they forget something but the rest of the time they owe me in cleaning time if I need to make more. (I have not made any trips this year.)
I am the mom that sometimes makes breakfast but most times I throw them a pop tart.
I am the mom that does not iron their clothes anymore.
I am the mom that yells sometimes….okay, more than I thought I ever would.
I am the mom that explains to my kids that my moods have nothing to do with them and are all to do with me learning to self-regulate.
I am the mom that pulls up at drop off after a morning of teenage crying and fighting and says, “Get out.”
I am the mom that curses and allows my kids to at times because we have learned that some words can not even begin to explain the pain that you are feeling.
I am the mom that has dance-offs.
I am the mom that accepts the challenge from my fourteen-year old that wants to “take me down.”
I am the mom that does not gives specific praise, not a fake, “Rah rah rah, you are the best!”
I am the mom that expects you to do your job and finish your job. I will not settle for less.
I am the mom that follows through on what I threaten even though it is hard and painful.
I am the mom that has helped each child find their thing even though it is not my thing.
I am the mom that has spanked the wrong kid.
I am the mom that apologized for that one, too.
I am the mom that is still beating myself up after 15 years.
I am the mom that answers sex questions no matter how intimidating. I have a National Geographic voice if you need it.
I am the mom that is so sarcastic that if a stranger heard our conversations they would be perplexed.
I am the mom that will say no and calls them out when they are being manipulative.
I am the mom that stopped dreaming for my kids and let them make their own dreams for their own lives.
I am the mom that drives them everywhere and loves my car time with them.
I am the mom that made my kids listen to all kinds of music because all music matters.
I am the mom that models imperfection because I want my kids to accept their imperfections and grow.
I am the mom that is struggling to get through the day.
I am a mom that doesn’t make excuses for myself or my kids.
During our last vacation, I realized my faults and told the girls that I was going to try to be more “June Cleaver” like because my edges can be rough and sharp. It lasted one hour. They told me to stop. In their words, they said, “Mom, we love you. Just as you are. We can’t imagine you being anything but you.”
And that is just who I am….the mistake-making mom that stopped comparing, started living, and embraced her beautiful mess.