characteristics of the perfect mom

She fails.

Or at least thinks she fails, but then she stands up, brushes off the crumbs and discouragement, and tries again. And again. And again. She learns that those failing feeling moments are really moments of learning, growing, and bravery in life. And even when the worry of failing takes over she knows that she’s worth fighting for.

She feels alone sometimes. Tears fill her eyes as she stands in a room crowded with people laughing and yet there she is in the middle feeling anonymous. Yet she still keeps going. She goes for her kids and for the hope of connection and community. She learns to reach out in her aloneness. She learns to know that her value and worth aren’t based on the past or all of that and that she does profoundly beautiful things in the little things she does every day.

She worries. Sometimes she worries too much. She worries that her kids are doing too much or that they’re not doing enough. She worries that she’s a good mom. Or that she she’s too strict or too lenient. She worries but only because she loves her kids and wants to make sure she’s doing a good job.

She feels on top of the world other times. Her home is clean, her laundry caught up, and her kids ultra behaved with yes maams and please and thank you’s mixed in with scraping of dishes and toys put back in the correctly sorted color coded boxes. And in that same breath she’s learned that having a bad day doesn’t define her motherhood journey. Nor does having a perfectly clean house as well.

She wonders if she’s doing enough. She looks at herself in the mirror and measures herself with a stick much to short at times. She can tell you everything that she doesn’t seem to do right or when she was impatient with her kids or when she just wanted to take a moment and run out the front door. She misses her true beauty – tucked behind the tired eyes and hair pulled back in a pony tail – she misses seeing all the amazing things that she does every single day.

Sometimes she misses seeing the power of the kisses behind ears, the bandaids and wounds carefully cleaned out, and the bike tires pumped up again and again. Or the stories she reads with silly voices and times where she doesn’t skip words. She looks at herself and sees a reflection of who she thought she was – and at times misses the profound beauty of who she is becoming. Because she is beautiful.

She is a fighter. Sometimes it’s for the little things like those little ones sit at the table and look you in the eye and answer with respect. And other times she fights for what is right and oftentimes it doesn’t make sense to anyone else but she keeps going.

She is giving. Oftentimes more than she realizes. Sometimes it’s dismissed as just what a mom does and no big deal but yet she gives. She stays up late even when she needs sleep. She gets up early. And sleeps with one ear partially awake waiting for that whimper, the cry of mom, or the sounds of one wandering up much too early. She jokes that she doesn’t really need sleep and yet can fall asleep at a moments notice.

She is an example in patience. She knows that sometimes they need to learn to zip up the coat or tie their shoes or clean their room. She may think she’s not patient, but yet as time passes she’s learned the art of patience. And for all the times where she isn’t patient she moves on and grows. And she knows that there are simply times where she just needs to scoop them up and do the job herself.

She longs for friendship, community, and camaraderie and yet in this social world sometimes that is the thing most lacking. So she opens her door and welcomes others into her messy and yet beautiful life.

She’s learned to let that squeamish part go. Just a bit. Now she cleans, hold puke buckets, wipes noses, scrapes wounds, cleans messes and all of that because that’s just what mom does. She forgets to see the awesomeness in just doing that.

She’s really not perfect.

She’s real.

Herself.

Walking a motherhood journey learning about herself in the process.

And she loves her kids.

She loves them more than she can articulate. She loves them so much that she gives of herself. She loves them so much that she works for them. She loves them even when they drive her crazy.

She loves them.

Which is just about perfect right there.

She is a mother.

Imperfectly perfect.

And profoundly one nose wiped popsicle opened moment after another.

Those are pretty good characteristics to have, really.

Onward. Brave mother.

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