Every other weekend it is
my “weekend off”. This is the time I have when my kids are with
their dad and I get to recoup. It is two days every other weekend when I morph
back into what I consider to be a normal human being. This transition doesn’t
happen instantly. It takes at least
three hours of not hearing my name constantly yelled before I am able to feel
my blood pressure stabilize, and my brain frees up enough space to think about
more than what’s going on the dinner table next.
On one of these
weekends Troy and I walked into Red Robin. Walking out as we were walking in
was a mom. She appeared to be with three little kids (by herself) and her face
was the picture of contentment, peace, and happiness. I did a double take as
she passed. Women like this are mythical creatures to me. I raised my thoughts
to my sweet husband and asked him however anyone could walk out of a restaurant
with little kids after dining out and be SMILING? I can see smiling that the
meal was survived, or smiling that perhaps no one had killed each other. But
looking happy, peaceful, AND smiling…that I just don’t comprehend after such an
event. Troy proclaimed that he understood, that he could take little kids out
to eat or wherever for that matter and feel the way that woman looked. It was
then that I realized what I had known all along…I was married to one of these
mythical creatures, just in male form.
It was this event that
started my reflection on motherhood. Why was I not born with this innate
ability to care for children with endless patience and eternal
perspective? Why am I not giddy with
excitement to help kids with lemonade stands, make boondoggles, or figure out
how to make crocodile origami as we are instructed on YouTube? (You’d think it
would be easy to watch someone do it and follow suit. It’s not, enough said.)
Why do I give
everything I’m capable of but still feel like I haven’t done it well enough?
I love my children more
than anything, and I love spending time with them. The moments that they are
away from me solidify these feelings each time.
As much as I love them, some days I just want to take a nap. Some days I‘d
rather watch what I want on TV without people all over me. Some days I just
can’t handle the thought of cooking something only to have it be rejected by 50%
of my diners. Some days I’d rather just fold the laundry myself because it’s
easier than dozens of teaching moments. On these days I nap, I watch what I
want on TV, I tell the kids to eat cereal or a sandwich, and I do the laundry
myself.
At the end of that day I feel GUILT. The big 5
letter G word that pops up again, and again. This is something I’ve been
working on and have a new understanding about. Guilt is not something that comes
from our Heavenly Father. It is a tool Satan uses to keep us trapped and to
keep us from progressing. Instead of focusing on what we can do better and
moving forward we wallow in our imperfectness and stay there. We stay there and
watch all the seemingly perfect moms flit around us each day.
We watch the perfect
ones that stroll out of Red Robin with a smile on their face, the motivated
ones that jog in the mornings while pushing their children. The ones with the
well-behaved children that all have on matching outfits and their hair done
perfectly. We watch the perfect Moms in the pew in front of us with the
children who sit quietly and listen to the speakers. We see the image of
perfection all around us as we peruse Pinterest and learn how to organize
better and cook 10,000 freezer meals that only cost 37 cents a meal. In all this we see what we want to see,
and perhaps what we are lacking. We see how organized someone is now, but what
we don’t know is where they came from and how much effort it took to get there.
We focus on this image of what
perfection is and when we utterly and most surely fail, we beat ourselves up.
I have been reading a
book by Amy Wilson, titled, When Did I
Get Like This? She says, “Most
of us mothers are far too wrapped up in our own guilt to judge anyone else, too
certain that everyone else is doing better than we are to look askance at a
neighbor’s choices. We are sure other mothers are judging us because, well,
they must be, when we suck so exceptionally. But we are our own worst enemies.
If nearly all of us have these daily moments of doubt, these nagging fears of
failure, the ones we are hardest on are ourselves.”
“There is always a way to fall short, and so
there is always a corner of my brain reverberating: you are a failure.”
I haven’t got this
whole thing figured out. I find myself lacking in multiple ways each day. I
watch the women around me that mother so effortlessly and radiate happiness
while they do it. I have concluded that that will never be me. Loving my kids
comes easy. If only love was the only thing it took to raise a child.
Everything else I will struggle with and find inadequacies daily, but each day
I’ll try to be better, and each day I’ll try to lay the guilt aside so that I
can truly move forward and not be stuck. I will remind myself that although I see
people like my husband (and the women strolling out of Red Robin) as mythical
creatures, that he has other things he struggles with that come easily to
me. Different things come naturally to
each of us. Let us strive to not get caught in the guilt of the things that
don’t. 
Now I must go make
dinner, do some more laundry, and pull some weeds. I’ll play some ball with the
kids and hopefully at the end of this day they know their mom loves them…even
though she’s not perfect.
Ether 12:27 And if men come unto me I will show unto them their
weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is
sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble
themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become
strong unto them.
