There are certain times when I feel like I've lost my mama mojo.
It may last for a few minutes, a few hours, or at worst, a few days.
Yes, there have been days and days when I have felt depleted of joy when it comes to mothering. Please don't mistake the fact that my love for my children is always there, but my attitude towards the work of mothering and taking care of our house is not always in a good place.
It is my intense drive to provide my children with the best that depletes me the most.
I want them to have the best mother, the best education, the best opportunities for spiritual growth, friendships, sports, etc. I could go on and on regarding the elements of the their lives that consume my thoughts daily.
It is never out of misery that I become consumed. It is always fueled by my extreme love for them.
However, I believe that as mothers, we can love too much. There comes a point when we have to let go. We can't make perfect meals, have a perfect house, achieve a perfect day every day, and have perfect children.
It is futile and UNREALISTIC.
That is a hard reality for us perfectionist moms to accept.
There is a bag full of reality on one side of the scale and another bag of perfectionist ideals on the other. I try to will my perfectionist ideals to create an even balanced state with reality, but those ideals won't budge the scale. They are just too dang heavy.
And to be quite honest, the more I try to get the scale to favor the side of perfection, the more frustrated I become with myself and my children.
No one benefits.
My quest to provide the best leaves me at my worst. I end up impatient, angry, and untimely deeply saddened once I put the kids to bed despite making it a policy to always ask for their forgiveness. I never want them to remember me that way and yet I fear that those moments will leave a powerful impression on them.
So on a day like today, when I crammed too many errands with a non-errand running three year old, got my favorite TOMS peed on by one cute boy who I didn't think was too cute at the moment, and topped it off to urgent care for Jack to get two stitches in his ear after he fell off the sofa and hit it on the coffee table, I am trying to reevaluate why it is that I feel so defeated.
(there's nothing a little Willy Wonka can't make better in our house).
That's just how life rolls. I should know that by now. Especially considering the fact that in the last year alone, I've had Charlie in a cast, Jack with staples twice, Charlie with stitches, and now Jack with stitches.
It's that dang reality thing again.
(a sweet Charlie gave Jack his dollar as his get well gift)
I don't proclaim to have wisdom or answers; just almost 9 years of experience at this gig.
I am learning that in order for me to give my kids the best mom possible, I have to let go of perfection. Giving them my best does not equate to me being the best.
And despite the blood, sweat, and tears (mine, not theirs!), I wake up each morning excited to see their faces again and am optimistic that it is going to be a wonderful--not perfect-- day together.