Motherhood sure doesn’t seem bring out the best in me.
At least not like in my dreams.
Motherhood…
Before becoming a mom I had beautiful dreams: of patience and giving calm guidance; cooking with children under toe — gleefully letting my cherubs crack the eggs and measure the flour; holding hands with my offspring and joyfully answering a billion questions as we walked together; reading books to them every night — with me and my husband having lots of energy to do that at the end of a very long day — it doesn’t take effort to read preschool books!
I find I often feel more like a big monster than an angelic presence, loving and guiding my children. I love them desperately, enjoy them , and guide them (no, no, no, no, no!!!). It seems the days are less about angelic ambience and more about survival.
I suppose it’s all part of the process… learning how to be a mom, learning how to be intentional in my parenting. It’s about learning how to let go of the ideals and instead deal with the reality. It\’s learning about the part of myself that is ugly, and working on making it beautiful. Motherhood is about letting go of self (not my interests, I still scrapbook!!!) and squeezing in the needs and joys of my children, at their pace rather than my own. But my pace is the most efficient – doesn’t anybody know that?:)
