So I feel I must confess something. I am very guilty of letting my kids play by themselves while I clean. I would say ignore them, but it's not like I don't talk to them or pay attention to where they are, I just don't sit and play with them.
This whole playing with my kids thing is hard for me. When I stayed home with my son, I was able to give my attention to him often and teach him so much. Now that I have two kids and a bigger house, I haven't quite found that balance yet. Also I lack a lot more sleep this time so if I sit and just play, I start yawning and dreaming of sleeping, which I feel is just as bad as not playing with them.
Recently my mom sent me a link to a blog that I absolutely love now. This woman has so many great ideas to help you play with your kids and help them learn many different things.
It has inspired me to really put the effort into both of my kids. To play with both of them and try to teach them as much as possible. I feel that play brings so many opportunities for learning, it's something I can't skimp on. I wrote earlier in the week about how I had pulled my son from preschool so I am now his sole teacher again. I need to take that job seriously and get back on track.
Today we made apple pie play dough and I played with my son for a long time with it. Then I tried to play with my daughter, but she was exhausted and crabby so that didn't really work out for us.
Tomorrow is another day though and I will try again!
Monday, November 18, 2013
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Oh The Way 3 Year Olds Play
I just have to share a funny coming from my 3 year old this morning.
He was sitting in his chair at the table working on eating some carrots as his little is crawling underneath him. He says,"I'm God and she is Moses." I asked what God tells Moses and he goes on telling me about how his teacher in preschool read them the story about Moses.
A little later he moved his chair away from the table, right in front of his sister, and looks down at her. He says in a deep voice,"Moses. Moooses. Moooooses. Moses."
I love this age when they re-enact things they've learned!
He was sitting in his chair at the table working on eating some carrots as his little is crawling underneath him. He says,"I'm God and she is Moses." I asked what God tells Moses and he goes on telling me about how his teacher in preschool read them the story about Moses.
A little later he moved his chair away from the table, right in front of his sister, and looks down at her. He says in a deep voice,"Moses. Moooses. Moooooses. Moses."
I love this age when they re-enact things they've learned!
Friday, November 15, 2013
Being a Parent is Hard
I'm sure anybody knows that being a parent is hard, dealing with kids that can be crazy or crabby, they don't want to listen, you always have to be the bad guy, you get the hint. Sometimes I forget about things that really are hard in parenting, the things that aren't day to day.
Yesterday was my son's last day of preschool and I felt awful for it. He enjoys going to preschool. He is one of those kids that enjoys learning, he is constantly taking in information and trying to figure out the world. He is getting to the point in his life where he likes having other kids around, he might even play with one! When he asks," what's in the morning?" and I tell him preschool, he gets excited.
The decision to pull him out of preschool was not an easy one to make. I've been thinking of the pros and cons since the moment we walked in the door at the first day and I was overwhelmed with what we experienced. How do you ever decide if you are being selfish, or truly doing what you feel is right for your child and your family?
On the way out the door, he asked, "Why can't I go to preschool anymore?" I quickly had to figure out a way to tell him that we just didn't like the school. I don't even remember what I said, because what do you say to that? He won't understand that we don't agree with many things that go on there, that I fear for his safety because I'm paranoid.
Now onto the daunting task of finding something else or trying to cope with nothing. I'm not trying to brag at all, but I know he'll be fine with learning things still, I have taught him so much more than anything he's ever learned at day care or preschool. I'm not worried about educating him while we figure this out (ok I lied, I am a little). I'm really just worried about missing that time alone with my daughter and that he won't have "friends" to play with.
There's so much that goes with one decision. I never knew that making decisions as a parent could be so hard.
Yesterday was my son's last day of preschool and I felt awful for it. He enjoys going to preschool. He is one of those kids that enjoys learning, he is constantly taking in information and trying to figure out the world. He is getting to the point in his life where he likes having other kids around, he might even play with one! When he asks," what's in the morning?" and I tell him preschool, he gets excited.
The decision to pull him out of preschool was not an easy one to make. I've been thinking of the pros and cons since the moment we walked in the door at the first day and I was overwhelmed with what we experienced. How do you ever decide if you are being selfish, or truly doing what you feel is right for your child and your family?
On the way out the door, he asked, "Why can't I go to preschool anymore?" I quickly had to figure out a way to tell him that we just didn't like the school. I don't even remember what I said, because what do you say to that? He won't understand that we don't agree with many things that go on there, that I fear for his safety because I'm paranoid.
Now onto the daunting task of finding something else or trying to cope with nothing. I'm not trying to brag at all, but I know he'll be fine with learning things still, I have taught him so much more than anything he's ever learned at day care or preschool. I'm not worried about educating him while we figure this out (ok I lied, I am a little). I'm really just worried about missing that time alone with my daughter and that he won't have "friends" to play with.
There's so much that goes with one decision. I never knew that making decisions as a parent could be so hard.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Sunday Confessional: 11/11/13
*I realize that it is no longer Sunday, but this is more fitting for today.*
I feel I must confess something: I never understood what being in the military meant....until I married someone who made the choice to join the Air Force. After finding out, I realized that I could never be so brave and take that plunge.
I guess you could say I was naive growing up. I come from a small town, not that many people are in the military and the only real affiliation our town has is the Army Guard, but it is a very small unit (or so it seems).
I didn't even think about the military until I was 13 and 9/11 happened. I remember in the few years after that tragic event, when Veteran's Day came around, there were pictures up on the screen at church of those serving overseas. Yes I thought it would be hard to be away for 12-15 (or more) months, but I never really thought about what they were doing or what the effects of being in the military were.
When my boyfriend at the time told me he wanted to join the Air Force and was going to go through a program called ROTC, I still had no idea what this truly meant. I just went with the flow of things because I didn't understand. When we got married a year later, I was enlightened a little bit more, but not to the full extent.
My husband finished his school and that was when reality sunk in. Since that time I have learned lots about what it means to be in the military. I know I still have lots to learn and experience, but for now this is what I've found.
To be in the military you must:
-Be brave, you never know the trials and tribulations you will face.
-Be willing to be selfless, everyone comes before you.
-Be willing to sacrifice so much.
-Be willing to miss birthdays, anniversaries, births, deaths, weddings, milestones in your loved ones' lives, and holidays.
-Be willing to fight a fight you may not believe in.
-Be willing to serve under someone you may not agree with.
-Be willing to fight for those that think what you are doing is wrong, when in reality you are fighting for them to have that exact opinion and be able to express it.
-Be willing to cast aside your own beliefs, morals, and feelings just so that you can get the job done, it is after all, what you chose to do.
-Be willing to spend sleepless nights away from your family, serving our country thousands of miles away, wishing you could hold your loved ones in your arms.
-Be willing to say "yes sir" or "yes ma'am" when all you want to really say is,"You couldn't pay me enough to do that."
-Be willing to wear the same uniform whether it is 120 degrees out or -20 degrees out.
-Be adaptable.
-Be willing to experience new places and new people because that is what your job has asked of you.
-Be willing to stand strong when all you want to do is go cry in the corner.
-Be willing to see things you never thought in your life that you'd see.
-Be willing to continue fighting when you've just watched your best friend, or your favorite leader die before your very eyes.
-Be willing to do the unthinkable and take another person's life without missing a beat.
-Be willing to say, "I'm not ok. I need help."
-Be willing to live among people that are cloaked in patriotism and show you and your family the true sense of the word "community."
And lastly,
-Be willing to give the ultimate sacrifice: your life. Because by taking that oath, you have agreed to fight for our freedom, no matter what the cost.
I could go on and on because being in the military means you are going to enter in a very different kind of world. It may not be easy all the time, it may not be fun, and it may cause you your life, but for those that chose to take that oath, I have the utmost respect. As I said before, I could never do it.
So thank you to all of those that have served (maybe even to the death) and are currently serving. YOU are true heroes in every sense of the word.
I feel I must confess something: I never understood what being in the military meant....until I married someone who made the choice to join the Air Force. After finding out, I realized that I could never be so brave and take that plunge.
I guess you could say I was naive growing up. I come from a small town, not that many people are in the military and the only real affiliation our town has is the Army Guard, but it is a very small unit (or so it seems).
I didn't even think about the military until I was 13 and 9/11 happened. I remember in the few years after that tragic event, when Veteran's Day came around, there were pictures up on the screen at church of those serving overseas. Yes I thought it would be hard to be away for 12-15 (or more) months, but I never really thought about what they were doing or what the effects of being in the military were.
When my boyfriend at the time told me he wanted to join the Air Force and was going to go through a program called ROTC, I still had no idea what this truly meant. I just went with the flow of things because I didn't understand. When we got married a year later, I was enlightened a little bit more, but not to the full extent.
My husband finished his school and that was when reality sunk in. Since that time I have learned lots about what it means to be in the military. I know I still have lots to learn and experience, but for now this is what I've found.
To be in the military you must:
-Be brave, you never know the trials and tribulations you will face.
-Be willing to be selfless, everyone comes before you.
-Be willing to sacrifice so much.
-Be willing to miss birthdays, anniversaries, births, deaths, weddings, milestones in your loved ones' lives, and holidays.
-Be willing to fight a fight you may not believe in.
-Be willing to serve under someone you may not agree with.
-Be willing to fight for those that think what you are doing is wrong, when in reality you are fighting for them to have that exact opinion and be able to express it.
-Be willing to cast aside your own beliefs, morals, and feelings just so that you can get the job done, it is after all, what you chose to do.
-Be willing to spend sleepless nights away from your family, serving our country thousands of miles away, wishing you could hold your loved ones in your arms.
-Be willing to say "yes sir" or "yes ma'am" when all you want to really say is,"You couldn't pay me enough to do that."
-Be willing to wear the same uniform whether it is 120 degrees out or -20 degrees out.
-Be adaptable.
-Be willing to experience new places and new people because that is what your job has asked of you.
-Be willing to stand strong when all you want to do is go cry in the corner.
-Be willing to see things you never thought in your life that you'd see.
-Be willing to continue fighting when you've just watched your best friend, or your favorite leader die before your very eyes.
-Be willing to do the unthinkable and take another person's life without missing a beat.
-Be willing to say, "I'm not ok. I need help."
-Be willing to live among people that are cloaked in patriotism and show you and your family the true sense of the word "community."
And lastly,
-Be willing to give the ultimate sacrifice: your life. Because by taking that oath, you have agreed to fight for our freedom, no matter what the cost.
I could go on and on because being in the military means you are going to enter in a very different kind of world. It may not be easy all the time, it may not be fun, and it may cause you your life, but for those that chose to take that oath, I have the utmost respect. As I said before, I could never do it.
So thank you to all of those that have served (maybe even to the death) and are currently serving. YOU are true heroes in every sense of the word.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
A Series of Unfortunate Events
Today was one of those days where I swear my kids were out to get me. They had to be plotting their moves in a way that they knew they would get to me.
It all started with child number one not taking a nap, that always makes for a pleasurable afternoon and evening of absolute insanity so he can keep himself awake. Now let's not leave it at just no nap, no let's wake child number two up from her nap after only an hour. She has also chosen recently to not sleep unless held and to never have me out of immediate eyesight without screaming bloody murder. Sleepiness just heightens said behaviors. Within five minutes both were laying on the floor crying.
Fast forward a little bit to me cleaning, I have a bucket of soapy water by my side scrubbing my walls. I can somewhat keep an eye on my roaming baby to make sure that she doesn't explore the bucket that is calling her name. She's a quick one though and after I looked away for ten seconds, I discover a bucket of warm soapy water soaking into my carpet and a wet child.
My instinct is to get our spot cleaner, because that will soak up the water easily. The only thing is that it is incredibly loud (I mean it leaves my ears ringing when I'm done.) so I had to put my daughter in her crib to keep her out of the way and out of the area of the intense sound. Commence screaming!
Upon inspection of the spot cleaner, there is already fluid in the collection area, yep, that fluid is what was sucked up off of the seats in my husband's truck from when my son threw up all over during a drive (thanks Chobani!), 2 months ago. Um ew! Someone (I won't name names but I'll tell you it wasn't me) forgot to clean it out afterwards like I had advised. Lovely.....
So the water is sucked up now, my ears are ringing, and my daughter is still screaming. Being the nice mother that I am, I went to get her only to discover that her screaming has resulted in her spitting up all down her shirt and onto her bed. Impromptu early bath
After feeding the screaming banshee, we head out to Culver's, because let's face it, at this point I deserve it! We get there only to find out that they are out of cheese curds, at 6:15 at night. I didn't even know that was a thing. I'm from WI, that's not even possible to run out of cheese curds. That left one little boy and one mommy very disappointed.
My darling son decides after we get back that he isn't going to finish his milk, but save it for the morning. It's not one of his usual cups, it is one of his sister's sippy cups minus the lid. I tell him to be careful.....just as his spills his milk onto the glass shelf in the refrigerator. Awesome! Let's not leave it at that though, it needs to get into the crevices where I don't think I can get to it, and it drips down to the next shelf. Surprise fridge cleaning! I had to take the vegetable drawer out to reach those spots and of course my daughter had to explore that, including sticking her fingers in the baking soda that is sitting in the drawer. I swear I can't get anything done without more messes or issues popping up.
Add all of that to my already sleep deprived state, and it just made for one interesting day. How do they even have time to plot this stuff out with each other? Especially when the baby can't leave my side?
It all started with child number one not taking a nap, that always makes for a pleasurable afternoon and evening of absolute insanity so he can keep himself awake. Now let's not leave it at just no nap, no let's wake child number two up from her nap after only an hour. She has also chosen recently to not sleep unless held and to never have me out of immediate eyesight without screaming bloody murder. Sleepiness just heightens said behaviors. Within five minutes both were laying on the floor crying.
Fast forward a little bit to me cleaning, I have a bucket of soapy water by my side scrubbing my walls. I can somewhat keep an eye on my roaming baby to make sure that she doesn't explore the bucket that is calling her name. She's a quick one though and after I looked away for ten seconds, I discover a bucket of warm soapy water soaking into my carpet and a wet child.
My instinct is to get our spot cleaner, because that will soak up the water easily. The only thing is that it is incredibly loud (I mean it leaves my ears ringing when I'm done.) so I had to put my daughter in her crib to keep her out of the way and out of the area of the intense sound. Commence screaming!
Upon inspection of the spot cleaner, there is already fluid in the collection area, yep, that fluid is what was sucked up off of the seats in my husband's truck from when my son threw up all over during a drive (thanks Chobani!), 2 months ago. Um ew! Someone (I won't name names but I'll tell you it wasn't me) forgot to clean it out afterwards like I had advised. Lovely.....
So the water is sucked up now, my ears are ringing, and my daughter is still screaming. Being the nice mother that I am, I went to get her only to discover that her screaming has resulted in her spitting up all down her shirt and onto her bed. Impromptu early bath
After feeding the screaming banshee, we head out to Culver's, because let's face it, at this point I deserve it! We get there only to find out that they are out of cheese curds, at 6:15 at night. I didn't even know that was a thing. I'm from WI, that's not even possible to run out of cheese curds. That left one little boy and one mommy very disappointed.
My darling son decides after we get back that he isn't going to finish his milk, but save it for the morning. It's not one of his usual cups, it is one of his sister's sippy cups minus the lid. I tell him to be careful.....just as his spills his milk onto the glass shelf in the refrigerator. Awesome! Let's not leave it at that though, it needs to get into the crevices where I don't think I can get to it, and it drips down to the next shelf. Surprise fridge cleaning! I had to take the vegetable drawer out to reach those spots and of course my daughter had to explore that, including sticking her fingers in the baking soda that is sitting in the drawer. I swear I can't get anything done without more messes or issues popping up.
Add all of that to my already sleep deprived state, and it just made for one interesting day. How do they even have time to plot this stuff out with each other? Especially when the baby can't leave my side?
Monday, November 4, 2013
Atlas Blizzard October 2013
I realized while listening to the announcer on the radio talk about storm clean-up, that I should put this video on here to raise awareness for people other than those in my area.
Warning: This video shows graphic images of livestock, and by that I mean dead animals. It is a long clip (16 minutes) but it is worth every second to see what the people of SD and a little bit of WY went through in the first few days of October.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwM5qNKnqyE&feature=share
Warning: This video shows graphic images of livestock, and by that I mean dead animals. It is a long clip (16 minutes) but it is worth every second to see what the people of SD and a little bit of WY went through in the first few days of October.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwM5qNKnqyE&feature=share
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| The drift outside our house, in the middle of the street. |
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| The same drift after the storm stopped. |
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| The drift in front of one of our garage doors. |
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| The drift in front of our house after the storm stopped, it's almost to the top of the street sign. |
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Sunday Confessional: 11/03/13
I have a confession to make and yes it's a little late, but still very applicable. I decided this week that I HATE Halloween! Yep, I said it, I hate Halloween.
It all started with the pumpkin carving. I have carved pumpkins in the past, but I think I had forgotten how much work it can be and I was supposed to be carving two pumpkins. I guess that's what I get for asking my 3 year old if he wanted to paint them or carve them.
I picked the biggest knife I had to cut the top off and let me tell you, that was a bad choice. I thought for sure I was going to end up cutting my arm off or at least a finger. I got my knife stuck in the pumpkin multiple times.
Cleaning the goop out took equal amount of time and effort. My son decided he wasn't going to help after one attempted scoop while my daughter reveled in the seeds and insides. About halfway through this process when we quit Skype-ing with my husband, the kids decided they were done and went about destroying my house while I continued carving our jack o' lantern.
By the time I finally had all the insides cleaned out, I was sweating and my hand/arm hurt. I got out the little saw from the pumpkin carving kit and went at the pumpkin with no specific plans. Here were my son's demands:
- 9 eyes
-2 noses
-1 mouth
-9 teeth
That most definitely didn't happen as my son overestimates my pumpkin carving ability. I was able to accomplish something, but bent the saw in the process.
All in all, I think the whole process took a good two hours. However, the result was ok.
It all started with the pumpkin carving. I have carved pumpkins in the past, but I think I had forgotten how much work it can be and I was supposed to be carving two pumpkins. I guess that's what I get for asking my 3 year old if he wanted to paint them or carve them.
I picked the biggest knife I had to cut the top off and let me tell you, that was a bad choice. I thought for sure I was going to end up cutting my arm off or at least a finger. I got my knife stuck in the pumpkin multiple times.
Cleaning the goop out took equal amount of time and effort. My son decided he wasn't going to help after one attempted scoop while my daughter reveled in the seeds and insides. About halfway through this process when we quit Skype-ing with my husband, the kids decided they were done and went about destroying my house while I continued carving our jack o' lantern.
By the time I finally had all the insides cleaned out, I was sweating and my hand/arm hurt. I got out the little saw from the pumpkin carving kit and went at the pumpkin with no specific plans. Here were my son's demands:
- 9 eyes
-2 noses
-1 mouth
-9 teeth
That most definitely didn't happen as my son overestimates my pumpkin carving ability. I was able to accomplish something, but bent the saw in the process.
All in all, I think the whole process took a good two hours. However, the result was ok.
Now onto Halloween itself, worst idea ever! Two kids, cold and wind, walking. Need I say more? We were ok until about a half hour in and then my daughter decided she was done in the stroller so I had the pleasure of holding her, one hand pushing the stroller, and corralling my son among the throngs of kids and parents. The decision was made that we were done so we turned around to walk back home and my son exclaims that he is too cold to walk home. Now I have two crying kids (and I mean really crying), a stroller, and about 6 blocks to walk. Embarrassing is not even the correct word to describe this scene.
Later after everything settled down, I thought of last year's Halloween and I realized I hated last year's too. I had to go to work early and help take our kids trick or treating. That entailed walking to the place we were trick or treating, taking them all around to get their goodies, walking back, helping getting all of the kids out of their costumes and then doing my shift. Then I got to go home and do the same thing over again. I was pregnant at the time. When all was said and done, I was so sore and felt physically ill from the fatigue.
So there you have it! I hate Halloween and I have vowed to never take my children trick or treating by myself again. Not-going-to-happen!
Friday, November 1, 2013
"Dear Mom"
I saw this on Facebook and thought it was so fitting. I'm constantly beating myself up about being a "perfect mom" (or even a good mom).
Dear Mom,
I’ve seen you around. I’ve seen you screaming at your kids in public, I’ve seen you ignoring them at the playground, I’ve seen you unshowered and wearing last night’s pajama pants at preschool drop-off. I’ve seen you begging your children, bribing them, threatening them. I’ve seen you shouting back and forth with your husband, with your mom, with the police officer at the crosswalk.
I’ve seen you running around with your kids, getting dirty and occasionally swearing audibly when you bang a knee. I’ve seen you sharing a milkshake with a manic four year old. I’ve seen you wiping your kids’ boogers with your bare palm, and then smearing them on the back of your jeans. I’ve seen you carry your toddler flopped over the crook of your arm while chasing a runaway ball.
I’ve also seen you gritting your teeth while your kid screamed at you for making him practice piano, or soccer, or basket weaving, or whatever it was. I’ve seen you close your eyes and breathe slowly after finding a gallon of milk dumped into your trunk. I’ve seen you crying into the sink while you desperately scrub crayon off your best designer purse. I’ve seen you pacing in front of the house.
I’ve seen you at the hospital waiting room. I’ve seen you at the pharmacy counter. I’ve seen you looking tired, and frightened.
I’ve seen a lot of you, actually. I see you every single day.
I don’t know if you planned to be a parent or not. If you always knew from your earliest years that you wanted to bring children into the world, to tend to them, or if motherhood was thrust upon you unexpectedly. I don’t know if it meets your expectations, or if you spent your first days as a mom terrified that you would never feel what you imagined “motherly love” would feel like for your child. I don’t know if you struggled with infertility, or with pregnancy loss, or with a traumatic birth. I don’t know if you created your child with your body, or created your family by welcoming your child into it.
But I know a lot about you.
I know that you didn’t get everything that you wanted. I know that you got a wealth of things you never knew you wanted until they were there in front of you. I know that you don’t believe that you’re doing your best, that you think you can do better. I know you are doing better than you think.
I know that when you look at your child, your children, you see yourself. And I know that you don’t, that you see a stranger who can’t understand why the small details of childhood that were so important to you are a bother to this small person who resembles you.
I know that you want to throw a lamp at your teenager’s head sometimes. I know you want to toss your three year old out the window once in a while.
I know that some nights, once it’s finally quiet, you curl up in bed and cry. I know that sometimes, you don’t, even though your heart is breaking with exhaustion and the weight of crushed expectations.
I know that some days are so hard that all you want is for them to end, and then at bedtime your children hug you and kiss you and tell you how much they love you and want to be like you, and you wish the day could last forever.
But it never does. The day always ends, and the next day brings new challenges. Fevers, heartbreak, art projects, new friends, new pets, new fights. And every day you do what you need to do.
You take care of things, because that’s your job. You go to work, or you fill up the crock pot, or you climb into the garden, or strap the baby to your back and pull out the vacuum cleaner.
You drop everything you’re doing to moderate an argument over who’s turn it is to use a specific marker, or to kiss a boo-boo, or to have a conversation about what color lipstick Pinocchio’s mommy wears.
I know that you have tickle fights in blanket forts, and that you have the words to at least eight different picture books memorized. I’ve heard that you dance like a wild woman when it’s just you and them. That you have no shame about farting or belching in their presence, that you make up goofy songs about peas and potatoes and cheese.
I know that an hour past bedtime, you drop what you’re doing and trim the fingernail that your three year old insists is keeping her up. I know that you stop cleaning dishes because your kids insist you need to join their tea party. I know you fed your kids PBandJ for four days straight when you had the flu. I know that you eat leftover crusts over the sink while your kids watch Super Why.
I know you didn’t expect most of this. I know you didn’t anticipate loving somebody so intensely, or loathing your post-baby body so much, or being so tired, or being the mom you’ve turned out to be.
You thought you had it figured out. Or you were blind and terrified. You hired the perfect nanny. Or you quit your job and learned to assemble flat packed baby furniture. You get confused by the conflict of feeling like nothing has changed since you were free and unfettered by children, and looking back on the choices you made as though an impostor was wearing your skin.
You’re not a perfect mom. No matter how you try, no matter what you do. You will never be a perfect mom.
And maybe that haunts you. Or maybe you’ve made peace with it. Or maybe it was never a problem to begin with.
No matter how much you do, there is always more. No matter how little you do, when the day is over your children are still loved. They still smile at you, believing you have magical powers to fix almost anything. No matter what happened at work, or at school, or in play group, you have still done everything in your power to ensure that the next morning will dawn and your children will be as happy, healthy, and wise as could possibly be hoped.
There’s an old Yiddish saying, “There is one perfect child in the world, and every mother has it.”
Unfortunately, there are no perfect parents. Your kids will grow up determined to be different than you. They will grow up certain that they won’t make their kids take piano lessons, or they’ll be more lenient, or more strict, or have more kids, or have fewer, or have none at all.
No matter how far from perfect you are, you are better than you think.
Someday your kids will be running around like crazy people at synagogue and concuss themselves on the handicapped rail, and somebody will still walk up and tell you what a beautiful family you have. You’ll be at the park and your kids will be covered in mud and jam up to the elbows, smearing your car with that sugary cement, and a pregnant lady will stop and smile at you wistfully.
No matter how many doubts you might have, you never need doubt this one thing: You are definitely not perfect.
And that’s good. Because really, neither is your child. And that means nobody can care for them the way you can, with the wealth of your understanding and your experience. Nobody knows what your child’s squall means, or what their jokes mean, or why they are crying, better than you do.
And since no mother is perfect, chances are you are caught in a two billion way tie for Best Mom in the World.
Congratulations, Best Mom in the World. You’re not perfect.
You’re as good as anybody can get. -Lea Grover
Dear Mom,
I’ve seen you around. I’ve seen you screaming at your kids in public, I’ve seen you ignoring them at the playground, I’ve seen you unshowered and wearing last night’s pajama pants at preschool drop-off. I’ve seen you begging your children, bribing them, threatening them. I’ve seen you shouting back and forth with your husband, with your mom, with the police officer at the crosswalk.
I’ve seen you running around with your kids, getting dirty and occasionally swearing audibly when you bang a knee. I’ve seen you sharing a milkshake with a manic four year old. I’ve seen you wiping your kids’ boogers with your bare palm, and then smearing them on the back of your jeans. I’ve seen you carry your toddler flopped over the crook of your arm while chasing a runaway ball.
I’ve also seen you gritting your teeth while your kid screamed at you for making him practice piano, or soccer, or basket weaving, or whatever it was. I’ve seen you close your eyes and breathe slowly after finding a gallon of milk dumped into your trunk. I’ve seen you crying into the sink while you desperately scrub crayon off your best designer purse. I’ve seen you pacing in front of the house.
I’ve seen you at the hospital waiting room. I’ve seen you at the pharmacy counter. I’ve seen you looking tired, and frightened.
I’ve seen a lot of you, actually. I see you every single day.
I don’t know if you planned to be a parent or not. If you always knew from your earliest years that you wanted to bring children into the world, to tend to them, or if motherhood was thrust upon you unexpectedly. I don’t know if it meets your expectations, or if you spent your first days as a mom terrified that you would never feel what you imagined “motherly love” would feel like for your child. I don’t know if you struggled with infertility, or with pregnancy loss, or with a traumatic birth. I don’t know if you created your child with your body, or created your family by welcoming your child into it.
But I know a lot about you.
I know that you didn’t get everything that you wanted. I know that you got a wealth of things you never knew you wanted until they were there in front of you. I know that you don’t believe that you’re doing your best, that you think you can do better. I know you are doing better than you think.
I know that when you look at your child, your children, you see yourself. And I know that you don’t, that you see a stranger who can’t understand why the small details of childhood that were so important to you are a bother to this small person who resembles you.
I know that you want to throw a lamp at your teenager’s head sometimes. I know you want to toss your three year old out the window once in a while.
I know that some nights, once it’s finally quiet, you curl up in bed and cry. I know that sometimes, you don’t, even though your heart is breaking with exhaustion and the weight of crushed expectations.
I know that some days are so hard that all you want is for them to end, and then at bedtime your children hug you and kiss you and tell you how much they love you and want to be like you, and you wish the day could last forever.
But it never does. The day always ends, and the next day brings new challenges. Fevers, heartbreak, art projects, new friends, new pets, new fights. And every day you do what you need to do.
You take care of things, because that’s your job. You go to work, or you fill up the crock pot, or you climb into the garden, or strap the baby to your back and pull out the vacuum cleaner.
You drop everything you’re doing to moderate an argument over who’s turn it is to use a specific marker, or to kiss a boo-boo, or to have a conversation about what color lipstick Pinocchio’s mommy wears.
I know that you have tickle fights in blanket forts, and that you have the words to at least eight different picture books memorized. I’ve heard that you dance like a wild woman when it’s just you and them. That you have no shame about farting or belching in their presence, that you make up goofy songs about peas and potatoes and cheese.
I know that an hour past bedtime, you drop what you’re doing and trim the fingernail that your three year old insists is keeping her up. I know that you stop cleaning dishes because your kids insist you need to join their tea party. I know you fed your kids PBandJ for four days straight when you had the flu. I know that you eat leftover crusts over the sink while your kids watch Super Why.
I know you didn’t expect most of this. I know you didn’t anticipate loving somebody so intensely, or loathing your post-baby body so much, or being so tired, or being the mom you’ve turned out to be.
You thought you had it figured out. Or you were blind and terrified. You hired the perfect nanny. Or you quit your job and learned to assemble flat packed baby furniture. You get confused by the conflict of feeling like nothing has changed since you were free and unfettered by children, and looking back on the choices you made as though an impostor was wearing your skin.
You’re not a perfect mom. No matter how you try, no matter what you do. You will never be a perfect mom.
And maybe that haunts you. Or maybe you’ve made peace with it. Or maybe it was never a problem to begin with.
No matter how much you do, there is always more. No matter how little you do, when the day is over your children are still loved. They still smile at you, believing you have magical powers to fix almost anything. No matter what happened at work, or at school, or in play group, you have still done everything in your power to ensure that the next morning will dawn and your children will be as happy, healthy, and wise as could possibly be hoped.
There’s an old Yiddish saying, “There is one perfect child in the world, and every mother has it.”
Unfortunately, there are no perfect parents. Your kids will grow up determined to be different than you. They will grow up certain that they won’t make their kids take piano lessons, or they’ll be more lenient, or more strict, or have more kids, or have fewer, or have none at all.
No matter how far from perfect you are, you are better than you think.
Someday your kids will be running around like crazy people at synagogue and concuss themselves on the handicapped rail, and somebody will still walk up and tell you what a beautiful family you have. You’ll be at the park and your kids will be covered in mud and jam up to the elbows, smearing your car with that sugary cement, and a pregnant lady will stop and smile at you wistfully.
No matter how many doubts you might have, you never need doubt this one thing: You are definitely not perfect.
And that’s good. Because really, neither is your child. And that means nobody can care for them the way you can, with the wealth of your understanding and your experience. Nobody knows what your child’s squall means, or what their jokes mean, or why they are crying, better than you do.
And since no mother is perfect, chances are you are caught in a two billion way tie for Best Mom in the World.
Congratulations, Best Mom in the World. You’re not perfect.
You’re as good as anybody can get. -Lea Grover
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