“I should have… ”
“It would have been better if…”
“I wish I was…”
“I’m going to…”
How often do you catch yourself using these statements? If you’re anything like me, the answer is “all too often”.
I like myself, I really do. So I’m not sure why I think I’m never quite good enough, especially at parenting. I am never good enough at parenting. I should always have done that, or never should have done this, wish I could do that and I’m going to try to be better at pretty much everything, starting tomorrow. To be honest, I’m pretty shit at being the parent I want to be. The parent I have in my head.
Well, the other night I got caught out by my husband going through my usual “coulda, shoulda, musta, wanna” list.
“You’re the kind of mother who teaches herself how to play the trombone just so she can help her son practice, what more could a kid want?”
And it got me thinking.
I’m so busy focusing on how far from the ‘perfect mother’ I am that it makes forget about all the ‘perfect mothering’ things I do.
I’m the kind of mother who teaches herself how to play the trombone just for you.
I’m the kind of mother who stays up until 3am baking cupcakes from scratch for your birthday.
I’m the kind of mother who only minds a little bit that you spilled paint all over the carpet.
I’m the kind of mother who will sit on the end of your bed every single night until you tell me you don’t need me there any more.
I’m the kind of mother who will rearrange my entire life so I can do reading groups in your classroom.
I’m the kind of mother that lets you walk part of the way home and I don’t even follow you in the car.
I’m the kind of mother who has drawers full of your artwork because I can’t bear to throw part of you away.
I’m the kind of mother who always stops to ask you what you’re looking forward to.
I’m the kind of mother who won’t let you waste your days away on PlayStation.
I’m the kind of mother who cooks with you because you love it, even though I don’t.
I’m the kind of mother who always, always looks when you say, “Look at me!”
Yes, I’m that mother. My kind of mother. Impatient, yell-y, tired, flawed; but my kind of mother, just the same.