I am either a terrible mother OR I am as thoughtful as Jesus.

by | May 14, 2012 | Parenting/Family | 12 comments

I would say if I am consistent at anything… I am consistent at flopping when it comes to motherhood.

I wouldn’t say I am a BAD mom.

I just…



I am impatient. I have high expectations. I am short-tempered.

I get cranky. I want my way. And I want it now (see: impatience).

So when I woke up Mother’s Day morning before everyone else … (I have always been an early riser, but usually at least one kid is awake before me on a “sleep-in-ish” day…), I remembered it was Mother’s Day and my mind started spinning.

I don’t deserve a day. I don’t deserve special attention or admiration or compliments related to my role as a mom. I AM TERRIBLE. I AM HORRIBLE. So-and-So is so patient… So-and-So is so crafty… So-and-So is so fun. So-and-So LIKES to play board games… So-and-So is so involved at the school… So-and-So… So-and-So… So-and-So… So-and-So… My poor kids. I’m going to be a better mom… I need to be a better mom…

Swirl. Swirl went my thoughts.

Kick. Punch. Slap.

My youngest wandered in… rubbing her tired eyes. Her scratchy voice asked, “Can I snuggle you?”


My son. His almost-teen self popped in to give me a card and a kiss.

My middle daughter soon peeked around the door with breakfast…

breakfast in bed

I opened the cards… I opened them with my feelings of inadequacy swirling.

I don’t deserve the cards… the love, the admiration, the Ritz crackers dipped in chocolate mint for breakfast…

Their innocent admiration.

Sweet as a sugar cube

Either she doesn’t know Jesus… though I would give my life for her.

I know I am not thoughtful as Jesus, nor as sweet as a sugar cube… I may be as beautiful as a flower, though. *Heh. Joke.*

But I was a little girl once. I remember spending hours in my mom’s closet trying on her shoes. I remember when she would get ready to go out with my dad… how I thought she was the most beautiful woman. Honestly, I don’t ever remember thinking any other woman was as beautiful. I remember my complete center was my family. My mom. And my dad.

My dad expresses a lot of regret as far as my raising. My dad and I are A LOT alike. I hear his words in mine when I think about how I am failing my kids. I feel so unworthy to get to be the mom of three really amazing kids.

Really amazing.

When I hear my dad express his regrets, yes… I can acknowledge everything was not perfect. And I didn’t need it to be.

I adored my mom and dad. I NEEDED them. I wanted only them. They loved me.

I love mine.

And here I am. Dozens of years later… rich in imperfection… but also rich in love.

Just like my Mom and Dad.


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