We are just moms.
Every so often, a friend of mine who doesn’t have children yet tells me that I am “such a good mom.” I occasionally hear it other places, too. Like from my husband on Mother’s Day or from my mom when I’m feeling defeated. Unfortunately, those sweet, well-intended words usually set off the marching band in my head. The one that parades about with vigor, sending each weak mommy moment promenading before my eyes.
I shoo my kids to bed. I prioritize a clean house over the kids. I let them watch too much TV. I knowingly let library books go overdue. (WHY?)
The truth is, no one is the best mom. But we are the best we can offer our kids. That’s all we’ve got.
We’re too task oriented. We rely on siblings to play with each other, so we don’t have to “play airport” one more time.
We don’t practice our letters like we should.
We raise our voices.
In honest moments, we admit that we are just as selfish as our two-year-olds.
We lock ourselves in the bathroom just to get some space. We can’t remember how to spell, because our brains are fuzzy. We’re tired of sharing. (Why does the food on our plates always look better than the food on their own?)
We long to not be needed, but deep down, we secretly like it.
We’ll break all kinds of our own rules if it means the baby will sleep.
We have sippy cups hiding under our couches.
We hope no one looks closely at the inside of our minivans.
We forget to brush our kids’ teeth on the way out the door. Worse yet, we occasionally forget to brush our own teeth.
We leave a trail of crumbs all throughout Target.
Facebook has become our outlet for adult communication.
And when we’re pregnant, it all goes to heck.
But on good days, we listen to their stories with a glow in our eyes, because we made those kids.
This is life. 24/7.
We are just moms. Run-of-the-mill moms. We are like our mothers before us and our daughters after us. We are the same. But here’s the thing: Maybe they’re right. We are the best.