I was in prayer today when the thought of my parents came into my spirit. I thank God they are now friends after 40 years of no communication. Suddenly a well of thankfulness rose up in me, and I began to weep. You see, my parents divorced when I was two; and my whole life, I have no memory of them even speaking to each other–let alone being in the same room.Continue reading Ain’t God Good?!
What kind of mom sometimes gives up on making dinner because her kids snack too much beforehand then never eat it anyway?
What kind of mom buys her kids treats at the grocery store even though they misbehaved so she doesn’t have to endure the meltdown if she says no?
What kind of mom sets limits on screen time then ignores it because she is finally able to take a bath in peace?
What kind of mom buys her kids clothes and toys then complains when they are strewn all over the living room?
What kind of mom makes the kids go outside and play so she can clean the house but ends up scrolling through social media?
What kind of mom takes her kids to the park but only stays for thirty minutes because she’s too doggone cold?
What kind of mom tries so hard to be perfect and cries because she knows she’ll never get there?
What kind of mom has overwhelming fears that she may be ruining her kids?
A good mom. A normal mom. A mom like me. I have done every single one of these things at some point. I know you have heard it before, but I’ll say it again: “The fact that you worry if you’re a good mom is proof that you are one.” Why? A bad mom wouldn’t care one way or the other.
Motherhood is hard. We are accountable for raising moral, responsible, well-mannered adults, and it’s a twenty-four-hour job. It’s even more difficult if you’re doing it alone, like me. I constantly feel like I’m failing. But when I tuck them into bed every night to hugs and kisses and “I love you mom”- I know I must be doing something right.
As long as the good outweighs the bad and the happy outweighs the sad, they will grow up and be glad… they have a great mom. A mom like you.
I don’t want to complain tonight, but can I be real? I’m tired. I will be 41 in nine days. I have been at this motherhood thing for twenty-two years, and I still have eleven to go until my youngest is 18. That’s thirty-three years, y’all. Thirty-three years of cleaning up after little people, breaking up arguments, fixing broken toys, birthday parties, tantrums (oh yes, I am still dealing with that…)Continue reading All Ye Heavy Laden