I’ll be honest. I’ve been having a rough time at this mom gig lately.
My girls fight every. single. day like they’re in rival prison gangs.
No matter what I say, or how loudly I say it, their living spaces continue to look like the 82nd Airborne is dropping bombs on them (said bombs constructed out of dirty clothes, stuffed animals, trash, markers, water cups, discarded single socks and hair ties).
They are clearly unfamiliar with the concept that “snitches get stitches” because they tattle on each other ALL THE LIVE LONG DAY like (not so) confidential informants.
One is a tween (enough said) and one is all drama, all the time.
I’m. Out. Of. Gas.
I’ve been at my wits’ end trying to figure out where I’ve gone wrong; how I turned my kids into over-dramatic, sassy, sloppy little Bloods and Crips.
And then today, just when I needed it, God nudged me to let me know that I’m not failing at what I consider the most important part of my job.
I got just the validation I needed to tell me that my breath is not wasted. They do hear me.
He is answering our daily prayer to help them be kind, brave and upstanding humans.
This is THE most important thing I tell them over and over like a broken record: I don’t care if they are the smartest students in the class, or the most stellar athletes on the team or the brightest prize-winning innovators in the contest. I care that they are the nicest kids in the class/on the team/in the contest. I care that they treat people with kindness and respect. Nothing–NOTHING–is more important than that.
It turns out that, at least sometimes, when I think they are tuning me out, they are actually listening. They are tucking it away for when they need it.
If you build it, they will come, I suppose.
Tomorrow, I’m sure that they will drive me to consider dropping MYSELF off at a fire station when they throw down over who gets to sit on what couch cushion.
But today? Today my heart is swollen with pride. Today I don’t feel like I’m failing miserably at being a mom. At least for today, I feel like I’m doing a kick-ass job.
I do realize this seems like shameless bragging, but we shouldn’t be ashamed to celebrate our kick-ass mom days. They don’t come easy.
It it’s also to serve as a reminder to the other moms, worn down to a nub, that we are doing better than we think we are. We can all use a good old-fashioned “‘atta girl” every once in a while.
Maybe it’s true that half the battle of BEING a good mom is CARING about being one.
So carry on, mommas. Your kick-ass mom days are coming too.