I’ve walked in circles, felt overwhelmed, cried, and even felt nauseated. But after a refreshing shower, a glass of wine, a few gluten-free cake pops, and a little relaxation, I’m ready to dive into this topic. Here we go!
Being a mom is a joy. For about 72.3% of the time, it’s a pretty rewarding experience. Sure, I can be loud and I often eat my feelings. A Pop-Tart here and there might not be the healthiest choice, but at least I haven’t harmed anyone else—bonus points for that! I admit I sometimes observe others a little too closely and I own up to the fact that I’m responsible for these little humans. (Counseling funds are set aside for later!)
But let’s not forget, they are individuals in their own right. They think, act, and form opinions separate from my own quirks.
For instance, one of my kids was a bridesmaid at a same-sex wedding recently, while another proudly wears Bernie Sanders T-shirts, convinced he still has a chance. Then there’s the one with what some might label “arrogant” political views who just bought a bumper sticker declaring, “You can take my gun when you pry it from my cold dead fingers.” None of these beliefs align with the values my partner and I tried to instill.
For those unfamiliar with my story, we thought we were doing so well as parents that we welcomed three more children through foster care and adoption. One of them has a serious biting issue—think T-Rex levels of bite force! Another never stops talking, asking questions like, “Why is your head so big?” or “How come you have such an ugly nose?” These quirky interactions keep me on my toes.
After dealing with those two, whom we jokingly refer to as the “little vandals,” I’ve learned to keep quiet when a child falls into a tiger exhibit or a shark tank at the zoo. I know we’ll likely make headlines before they grow up.
I really don’t want to be “that mom,” the one nervously lingering by a police car while the fire department works to ensure my kids aren’t electrocuted. I find myself wringing my hands and asking, “Where did they even get a Kentucky Fried Chicken hot air balloon?”
I do watch them. I guide them. I pray for them. I even cut the crusts off their sandwiches and clean their ears. Despite all that effort, they’re still a hot mess.
Take my 14-year-old—she can play the piano by ear, a talent she’s had since she was two. She also can sing beautifully. We take little credit for her gifts, and honestly, it kind of freaks us out. We lock our bedroom door at night, convinced she might unleash some psychic powers if we upset her. We’re thrilled with her talents, of course, and hope they help her get a scholarship someday. Still, her achievements are hers alone.
In our society, we often tie our self-worth as parents to our children’s successes. When a child misbehaves, the blame often falls squarely on the mother’s shoulders. “She really messed that kid up,” people say.
I can relate to that. I probably did contribute to some of their issues. However, there are traits they were born with, attributes they came into this world possessing. My bookshelves are filled with worn-out guides on strong-willed, defiant, and learning-disabled children. My journals are filled with the prayers of a frazzled mom trying to navigate the complexities of raising decent human beings.
And while they are indeed a part of me, they are also their own individuals. Yes, my kids might achieve incredible things, but they will also make mistakes. They might upset someone, get into trouble, or lead others in the wrong direction. No matter how much I wish for their perfection, I can’t control everything.
Just the other day, while waiting in line at the store, I saw a young mom struggling with her child who has special needs. The challenge was evident, and the boy’s distress was heartbreaking to witness. The looks she received from others were even harder to bear. My daughter, another mom, and I stepped in to help her finish her shopping and get her and her son to the car. Tears and sweat mixed as she sobbed, “I’m not a bad mom. I’m doing the best I can. My son means the world to me…”
These children are a part of us, yet they are also completely separate beings with their own strengths, weaknesses, dreams, and flaws. One may need medication; another might find joy in simple jobs. They are unique entities, each with their own path in life.
I wrote this for myself and for that mom at the store, as a reminder: My kids are not perfect, and neither am I. But I am a good mom.
Summary:
This blog post reflects on the chaotic yet rewarding journey of motherhood. It emphasizes the individuality of children, the challenges parents face, and the importance of recognizing that, despite our efforts, kids will make their own choices and mistakes. The piece serves as a reminder that being a good mom doesn’t hinge on perfection.