I Am Failing Miserably At This Whole Mother Thing

I gave birth to my first child when I was 31.

After pushing for two excruciating hours and two more excruciating minutes, she was finally born. I feel sure that I was on the verge of death after the whole ordeal.

But then they placed the most beautiful, bright-eyed baby girl into my arms. And she had a pink bow stuck to her head. And she smelled like babies do.

I had wondered the entire pregnancy what I would actually feel at that moment, when I held her for the first time. I feared that I wouldn’t feel that mothering instinct. Or maybe not even love.

Well I felt things alright. All the feelings. I instantly had a soft, mushy spot for her. You can’t understand maybe unless you are a parent, but the moment when I met her, I fell madly in love. Instant Mama Bear. Ride or die.

I felt like I could actually pull off the whole mothering thing. I was going to be the best mother, in the history of great mothers. I was going to make the world a better place, all for her.

Looking back now it is clear, at that exact moment, I needed someone to shake me. Then slap me. And shake me one more time.

That sweet, tiny baby girl is now ten. And she has three little brothers. And I now know that I am in fact, one of the worst mothers, in the history of bad mothers.

Being a mother is incredibly hard. Most mothers that I watch make it look manageable though. Except now I know that they are all faking it. One huge charade.

Do you know the definition of charade?

charade: a blatant pretense or deception, especially something so full of pretense as to be a travesty

That sounds about right.

Most days I feel like I am barely treading water. I spend my time putting out fires. Barely covering the holes. Struggling to make ends meet. Trying to keep all of the balls in the air.

You get the idea.

I want my kids to be well-adjusted, compassionate, smart leaders. I want them to excel in things that fuel their passions. I want them to be well-rounded, interesting members of society.

Except I don’t see how in the world I have time to oversee any of that, when I still struggle with third grade math homework and healthy meal planning .

As I mother I feel like every single decision that I make affects my kids. The big and the small, will have profound consequences on their future as adults.

As though every wrong choice will impact them one day. Then they will know what I screw up I really am. Just flying by the seat of my pants through this whole mothering thing.

I can think about it until I am almost to the point of hyperventilation. Am I doing anything right?

Then my kid will walk up and give me an unsolicited hug.

Instantly I crash back down from my panic filled state.

My kids love me. And they know that I love them. Everything else, we are figuring out together.

I get up every day with the intention of doing a better job than I did yesterday. Each day I learn something new. Or see the error of my ways. Or see evidence of the fact that I was actually doing something right.

Do I sometimes skip over paragraphs, as I read to my five-year old, in an effort to get through the book faster? Do I oftentimes tune out the words that are coming out of my child’s mouth, all in the name of sanity?

Do I walk through the grocery store with a box of macaroni and cheese carefully buried under mountains of fresh produce? As to not be judged? Because one night very soon, that box of macaroni and cheese will save my sanity at dinnertime?

When my dramatic daughter has an epic meltdown, do I lock myself in my bathroom and pretend that I don’t even have any kids?

When my son asked me why his “pee pee sticks up sometimes” did I look like a deer in headlights and fake an injury? All in an effort to collect my thoughts?

Guilty on all charges.

I am not a perfect mother. But I am a perfect example of a mother who is trying to be the best mother that she knows how to be.

Once you have children, absolutely nothing in the world is as it was. You are forever changed. Forever a parent. Your heart, belonging to another.

You relate every moment, every tragedy, every triumph, every defeat, every victory, every breath, every exhale to your children.

The world can be an amazing place, through their eyes. The world can be devastating. But regardless, you carry the world, once you’re a parent. And making the world better, becomes your purpose. Hoping they will do the same.

If my children need to talk, they know I will listen. If they need a hug, they know I have open arms. If they have a question, they know I will try my best to give them an honest answer.

Even if Google is required.

As a mother you must accept that you have been given a very important job. The most important job. You are cultivating the next generation of humans. Those who will navigate the state of the world. Those who will make a difference. Those who will make change. Those who will reach for the stars.

And those who will have children of their own one day.

You don’t have to be a perfect mother. You only have to love your children. And wake up each day, trying to do it just a little bit better than the day before.

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