Pages

Sunday, October 13, 2013

What matters are the memories made in our home, on the walls up the stairs, in the coloring books and inside our favorite stories.

I find myself re-writing the same thing in my journal-Over a span of 2 years to be exact.

The same fears, the same frustrations, the same questions.

I lack confidence as a young, first time Mom.

Its hard to believe in yourself as a Mom when you see other Moms and kids surpassing you-doing things bigger and better.

The moment I found out I was expecting, in my mind, I immediately became a Mom. I was dreaming of the family camping trips, the baking cookies together, and Christmas mornings, and was getting so excited about new traditions we could make-and old traditions that would live on.

I vowed to never be that mom. The one who is way over the top. The one who has to make a memory out of everything. Has to always have the camera out. Has to be the Super Mom, does everything perfect- from the perfect cookies to the perfect Birthday Parties. Even with Levi growing inside me, I did not want to be that Mom obsessing over being perfect. And making every moment in her kid's life seem perfect. I just wanted to be Me, because I knew that was good enough. And I knew If I was myself, I would be a great Mama to Levi.

But over the past few years, I have let go of my confidence as a Mom, and slowly slipped into a state where sometimes-I don't quite believe that I am such a great mom. I think we all go through this. We all wonder if we are making the best decisions for our kids, giving them the best experiences...Social Media definitely has a role in this. How many blogs do you see about Moms who make all their own soap, all their own food from scratch. Or Moms who spend tons of money on decorating the perfect nursery, or baby items. Or Moms who do everything perfect!?  Its hard. Its frustrating. I am constantly reminding myself that I don't have the money or the time to try to be like these other Moms I see out there on the Web.

But really I need to remind myself that those things DON'T matter. It really doesn't. It may matter to that Mom and her family, but it should have no effect on me. What matters to me are the memories made and kept inside our home, inside the pages of a scrapbook, inside the baby book. On the walls up the stairs, in the coloring books and inside our favorite stories.

Mommies out there in suburbs, small towns and even on the web should not have to feel less than wonderful when they see others who made it to Church that morning, or who have a big home that is always clean, or whose child has not yet carved a pumpkin this season.

We need to be confident in our own abilities as Moms, in our own strengths, and in our own reality and build other Moms up.

This is truth-

Levi is still in his Pajamas at Noon. He sometimes is allowed to throw his food on the floor and eat it. He doesn't always listen. I have to put him in his room and shut the door to take a breather. I don't have the patience some days. I don't always have a family outing planned. I don't always feel like reading "The Three Little Pigs" a hundred times, or putting legos together. I don't have all the answers. I make mistakes, I know I'm not doing everything right. And I certainly don't always have people telling me I'm a good Mom. I am always winging things. Going with my gut even if its not the conventional way of doing things. I have people question me, and judge me as a Mom.

But on days like today: When Levi wakes up and calls out "Mommy, Mommy" with his stuffy, runny nose-My heart is warmed by the realization that I am the first person he wants to see in the morning. When he helps me make breakfast and holds onto my sweatpants the whole time, I am the one he choose to be closest to. When he wants to sit on my lap and dip his finger in my coffee, I am the one he chooses to spend his day with. When he crashes his tower of blocks and runs up to me and says, "Cwash"! I am the one he wants to share play time with. And when he comes up to me with a book and a blanket and keeps saying, "Agin, Agin", I am the one he chooses to learn and read with. At the end of the night, when I lay down with him, he chooses to grip onto the top of my shirt, and hum along with me, because I calm him.

I teach him. I read to him. I crash towers with him. I cook with him. I drink coffee with him. I put him to sleep most night. I calm him. And he knows this. He trusts me, and he loves me. That's what makes me a good mom. I am the mom I always knew I was when Levi was the size of a little pea.

This little boy thinks the world of me. Even with crumbs on the floor and a heaping basket of unfolded laundry.


And to me, that's all that matters.




Post a Comment