If you have been a blog reader of my blogs for a while, you might of noticed a common theme.
Motherhood
Because oh-my-goodness, I don't want to be just a good mother.
I want to be amazing.
I want my kids to remember baking bread and homemade Halloween costumes and wild birthday parties. I want them to remember hand crafted Christmas presents and jokes in their lunch boxes and cookies in the cookie jar. Night time routines should always be tear-less and frustration free with at least a couple dozen minutes spent singing songs and rubbing feet and tucking cute bodies under those blankets that magically fall off a million times on their own.
For far too long, I violently compared my mothering skills to my Colorado and Texas girlfriends that made motherhood look so easy. So many amazing woman hold their head above the water of motherhood while I struggle against the tide of sleep deprivation and postpartum depression and all of my unrealistic expectations that I hold for myself.
I wanted to conquer motherhood.
Excel at it.
I want to be able to do it all and be it all with one hand tied behind my back.
I told myself that when I finally reached that state of perfected motherhood, I would slow down and finally spend that time with friends that I desperately needed, take care of myself, and catch up on sleep.
Yeah.
That time never came.
And instead of feeling like I was doing my best, I constantly felt depressed at my inability to do and be it all. Because when you spend your time comparing yourself, you never find the courage to spread your own wings and grow into the person you were designed to become.
I am learning to stop investing my happiness in that facade act of perfection.
Because sometimes the best happiness is found when we stop trying to be or appear perfect. The year of 2012 taught me to slow down, do less, and embrace who I am despite my imperfections. I learned that it is okay to go to bed with dishes in the sink and little-boy-dried-urine behind the toilet isn't an absolute emergency because chances are that more will accumulate in five minutes - or less.
I learned to be okay with the fact that I don't love to sew or make things or craftiness. I stopped playing on the floor with the kids long enough to make time for me. And that un-relentless guilt that once stalked my every move isn't around as often as it used to be.
I learned that recycling bins are cool.
Our next birthday parties might be held in them.
I learned that there are somethings that matter and a lot of things that don't.
Two-year-old naked days outside really don't matter if the diaper is clean and shoes are on the right feet.
Think maximum vitamin D absorption.
And when that child has a major crush on tight pants, who really cares?
At least he is dressed.
Cherished memories don't always come from highly articulated planned events.
They magically appear on their own.
A couple cans of shaving cream go a long way.
The messier the activity the better.
I can stop freaking out about every little disaster that happens if my kids are happy and they are respectful.
In the game of life, it really doesn't matter how many goals you make.
All that matters - in the end - is that you had a good time.
Even if you spend the entire soccer game pretending to be Mario Cart.
Front yard fire pits are awesome opportunities to bond with your neighbors.
We just might destroy our
Love notes from the heart are always the best....even if you don't quite understand it at first.
Face painting your kids is always the answer.
Period.
The best part of a rodeo (or life in general) is always the playground.
It doesn't matter how much we paid to watch those bucking horses... if the park is demanding our undivided attention we must obey.
Lego pirate ships are awesome.
Especially if constructed before breakfast.
Kids are going to argue and fight.
And I am going to recite my mother in these highly stressful moments.
"Don't look at each other, touch each other, breathe on each other, talk to each other, or think of each other."
But when they choose to love one another, that camera better be available.
And finally I can't do this on my own.
Last summer, I miscarried. Despite the newness of the pregnancy, I was crushed. Emptiness encompassed my soul like I have never experienced. I didn't tell the world, but the few people that I did tell were amazing. My mom dropped everything to come hold me while I cried. Sister-in-laws brought dinner and flowers and nutritional products. Friends brought flowers and offered to watch my kids and wrapped their arms around me when I so desperately needed it. For too long, I was terrified to express my emotions, my fears, and my insecurities. I feared that others would judge my imperfections and walk away from me.
I was so desperately wrong.
In the end, I have learned that motherhood isn't about doing it all. Motherhood isn't about the picture perfect home or the strength to never ever loose your temper. It is about embracing the life that is yours and finding the courage to do the best you can each and everyday.
And motherhood is about learning to set aside our competitive natures so we can cling to one another. The morning walks with girlfriends, girls-night-out, and lunch dates are oh-so-important to my happiness. I am so sad that I sacrificed these precious moments for that stupid pseudo-image of motherhood perfection.
Marjorie Pay Hinckley once said:
“We are all in this together. We need each other. Oh, how we need each other. Those of us who are old need you who are young, and hopefully, you who are young need some of us who are old...We need deep and satisfying and loyal friendships with each other. These friendships are a necessary source of sustenance. We need to renew our faith every day. We need to lock arms and help build the kingdom so that it will roll forth and fill the whole earth.”
I am grateful for the teachers and the friends and the family members that support me in my pursuit of becoming the best mother I can be. Ultimately, I need you because I can't do this alone. Thank you for your support!
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