Do you ever wake up in the morning just feeling like you haven’t even slept at all?
Feeling that you just don’t have what it’s going to take to face the unyielding energy and chores that your toddler will inevitably bring to the rest of the day? Or deal with the mouthy attitude of your teenager who thinks they know everything?
It may not be every day that I feel like this. Some days I wake up feeling rested and ready for the day. I’m eager to wake my sleeping spawn, feeling like I can be positive to what I know they will bring to the proverbial table.
My positive attitude will break down their daily morning grumpiness and unwillingness to get up and ready for the day, even though they both fought me on going to sleep the night before.
But, some mornings, I just can’t deal with it. I know my daughter will be difficult to wake up. I know my son will give me his teenage attitude. That’s what they do. That’s when we have to parent. That’s when we have to teach them how to behave like appropriate and respectful human beings. That’s when we have to teach.
That’s Hard For Me To Do Sometimes.
I will be the first to admit that I am not a “Natural Born Mother”.
I read a post, not too long ago, written by a woman who seems to be a real “Natural Born Mother”. Her post called “Motherhood is Magical”made me think about my parenting in a different way.
As I began to read her story, I felt emotional at the passion she has for being a mother and I was amazed at how positive she was through her whole story about the life she leads in raising her children. She talks about how she, as a child, remembers how magical her parents made her days feel, and she wants to give her kids the same magical experiences she reminisces about.
She made me feel almost ashamed, because she truly feels every positive moment her children bring to her life. She doesn’t focus on what horrors she is met with each day as being a mother.
“I can’t write about the hard days, the tough times, the days when my kids only seem to tantrum and melt down. I can’t because I can hardly remember them.”
She focuses only on the good memories that they’re making.
“I only remember the funny things they said and did, the giggles and bright smiles, the excitement of doing something they don’t get to do everyday, the unmatched joy on their faces as they eat a piece of chocolate”
She is self-less, and loving every minute of it.
I know that she is not wanting to make me feel ashamed at the way that I parent. She’s only sharing her truth, how she feels about being a mom. How much joy it all brings to her life.
I Wish I Could Say The Same About My Parenting.
She didn’t write that piece to make anyone feel like they’re parenting is wrong. It’s my fault that I feel ashamed. This is not the one and only time in my life where I have questioned the type of mother I am to my children. I question my parenting skills almost every second of every day.
I love my children, more than any other person on this earth. But being a mom is hard, for me anyway.
Even though I find being a parent difficult, stressful, time consuming, expensive, and has raised my anxiety level like I never knew it could, or would, I still love my kids. I tell them constantly that I love them. I hug them as much as I can. I make sure they know that I will be here for them whenever they need me. I take care of them. Hell, they’re still alive, aren’t they?!
I Have Many Faults.
I wasn’t raised in a household were we said “I love you” or gave hugs. My parents worked a lot, so I spent most of my early days at daycare. When I was old enough, I stayed home with my brother after school, or I was out playing with friends. My parents came home late in the afternoon. I would come home just before dark, from playing with my friends; eat dinner, watch some T.V., and then went to bed.
This may, or may not, have anything to do with how I parent now. I can say, that since I don’t remember my parents being a big part of my childhood, I try to be more present for my children than I felt my parents were able to be with me. I make sure that they know and understand that I love them.
But….I have many anxieties that makes being a a “good” parent difficult for me.
I worry about their safety anytime they’re out of my site. I worry about strangers and accidents. I worry about what could happen to them while thy’re out trying to have fun. I would honestly rather they be inside, where I know they’re safe, than outside where they could get hurt. I don’t make them stay inside for my own sake, but if they want to be inside and watch T.V. or play video games I don’t make them go outside to play.
I have difficulty talking with people I don’t know. I actually HATE it. Getting my kids into activities is difficult for me to do if it requires me to talk with other adults. It’s just one of those things that makes me anxious and uncomfortable. That doesn’t mean that my children don’t do activities, but it is something that I dread.
I allow my son to play video games. I allow my daughter to watch (appropriate) videos on her tablet. That doesn’t mean that it’s all they do, but something I feel like I may be judged by other for allowing them to do it.
I hate playing with my kids sometimes.
When I grew up, my parents NEVER played with me. From what I can remember, they never had the time to do it.
That doesn’t mean I never play with my kids. I try to make an effort (and yes, is is an effort for me) to do the activities they want me to play. Sometimes I have fun doing it, and sometimes it’s a struggle for me to carry on like I’m enjoying whatever activity they are, basically, forcing me to do.
Sometimes I have good parenting days, and sometime I have really shitty parenting days.
That Doesn’t Mean I’m A Bad Parent
I wish I could be more like the mother who has a hard time remembering the bad days. I wish I could be the mom who gets her kid into every activity and doesn’t mind driving them around to each activity all afternoon. I wish I was the mom who had more patience, and I wish I loved to sit down and make planned crafts and activities. I wish I was the mom who made play dates. I wish I was the mom who felt like making every moment magical,
Because I wish I was “That Mom” doesn’t mean that my kids have a bad mom. It doesn’t mean I’m not making good memories with them. It doesn’t really mean anything. I’m just a different type of mom.
I’m a mom that fails, A LOT. I’m the mom who likes to share my fails. I’m the type of mom that knows there are other parents out there in the universe who share the same feelings that I do and needs to hear about my trials and mom-fail moments to know that they’re not alone.
I’m Not The Only One!
Let’s face it, I know I’m not the only one dealing with a toddler arguing with me about what cup she drinks out of. I’m not the only one with a child who screams at me EVERY TIME I brush her hair. I’m not the only mother who loses her her shit after asking my child to complete a simple task that never gets done. I’m not the only one who takes a long shower just to try and get a few moments to myself, where someone isn’t crawling all over me, or asking me to “watch what I can do!” all day long. I’m not the only one dreading taking my daughter to the grocery store because she’ll want me to buy her things she that she doesn’t need. And I know that I’m not the only parent that doesn’t want to deal with any more whining today.
Good stories about our children are fun to share and great to hear. They’re happy and fun and they make us feel like we’re killing it at this parenting thing.
But, I don’t need help when I feel like I’m making my children happy. I don’t needs help when I feel good, knowing I’m making my kids into decent human beings, or when I know they feel the magic in the memories we are making.
I need help with when I feel like I’m doing something wrong. I want to feel like, when the shit hits the fan, and that could be in the literal sense, I’m not the only one dealing with a maniac.
I makes me feel normal when I hear about other parents struggles. It makes me feel like I’m not alone. It makes me happy to know that other parents, even the ones who feel like they have this parenting gig under control, have bad days too.
We can share our failures, turn them into funny stories, and give or take advice about how we each handled those maniacs in each individual F-up that we had to deal with, and fight through, to get out at the other end in one piece.
We All Parent Differently
Parenting can be the best, most rewarding, “job” of our lives.
We can all find the joy as we raise our kids. We can find the magic in the way they grow and learn. We can feel triumph when they reach and surpass milestones. We feel pride when they behave how we have taught them to, or excel in areas we have practiced with them over and over again.
We all remember different memories based on how they affect our lives.
I try to recreate the magical memories that I remember and reminisce about from my childhood. But while trying to create those memories with my children, it always seems like one or both of them make the experience feel like a downright disaster. They really know how to kill the mood sometimes.
When they don’t get everything that they want. When they get tired or hungry, and they whine and cry, sometimes having a breakdown in the middle of a crowded area. When they make me feel like I’m failing, when I’m supposed to be winning. They really know how to make you feel like you’re the worst parent on the planet.
For The Most Part, We Do The Best That We Can
We can never know what memories will be the ones our children will look back on, as an adult, and remember as the good times. And I know, and understand very well, that I am not the type of parent that can offer those good and magical times on a daily basis.
I know and understand that I’m doing the best that I can with what I have to offer. And I’m O.K. with that. I’m the world’s okayest Mom.
We all have our own stories to tell. We can share those stories, good or bad. Magical or horrible, and we can have others relate to them on some level or another.
That’s what makes this parenting gig so unique. No two stories are alike.
That’s also what makes reading other people’s stories; good or bad, stressful or magical, so interesting.
Want to read more crazy mom-life stories? Check out WhyMommaWhy.blog
Thanks for reading!