I started writing a post yesterday about my failings as a mother. About how no matter what I do, my kids don’t listen to a damn thing I say. About how the kids fight me every.step.of.the.way all day long. About how I feel like I’m failing my kids by not setting rules that they can actually follow. Or some such drivel.
Then I got this on Twitter:
To be honest, I did a mental rant-and-rave at this person after I got the message. I wasn’t feeling good enough. I was feeling low. However, I had some time to digest what she was saying, and I realize she’s right. I am doing the best I can possibly do for these kids of mine. Some days I do better than others. Some days I yell because they’ve emptied the entire toy shelf in the living room, and some days I just sit and watch them play with their toys and quietly ask them to put them away. Some days I have no patience for food/napkins/cups thrown on the floor and some days I remind them not to do that and ask them to pick them up themselves.
This morning started off much like yesterday did and I was getting really frustrated, again. Then somehow the kids settled down and there I was, reading books to Izzie, just the two of us. It was calming, reading silly Sandra Boynton books while she sat in my lap and snuggled against me. I could hear Drew and Annie playing nicely together and realized that it’s not going to be peaches and cream, rainbows and glitter all the time. Sometimes it’s going to be dark skies, cranky kids and cranky mama. Sometimes I won’t be good enough. But I have to strive to be better, every single day. Not perfect, just better.