I have finally come to the conclusion and conceded to the naked reality that, (deep breath)… I am not going to be able to be the perfect mom. There. I said it. I just can…not…do it all.

I think sometimes as mothers we tend to hold ourselves to impossible standards; and then we silently berate ourselves when we fail to reach them. I often find myself thinking back to my own childhood. I want be all the good things my own mother was, while at the same time correct all the mistakes she made. How many of us have those mental lists of all the good things we want to emulate and all the bad things that we swore we’d never repeat. We want to give our kids all the best parts of our own childhood, making them even BETTER, AND to give them what we didn’t have as well.

And then I get on Facebook, where every other mother seems perfect. Or at least they look like they are doing this mommy thing way better than me. One mommy took her kids to the museum yesterday, and another made it to the library. Somebody made cute Pinteresty crafts with her children, or baked cookies, or took them on some wonderful playdate where they all played together in perfect harmony.

Then I look around my house at the piles of laundry in everyone’s respective rooms. (Hey, at least I sorted them.) I see the toys everywhere, the weeks (okay, sometimes months) worth of mail piled on the kitchen table. I see the dishes piled on the stove, or the counter, or both because the sink and dishwasher are both full. The detergent is in there and I meant to push the button. I see the shoes and purse and backpack that didn’t make it more than a few feet past the front door. I look at all that and more and think of how I MUST be failing at this mommy thing. I mean, we didn’t even make it out of the house today. It was all I could do to keep the poop off the floor (and off everything else), the garbage in the appropriate receptacles, and everyone’s hands, face, and butts clean. It seemed like I was hanging on for dear life just to keep the place from becoming a total health hazard. I realized that I just don’t have the physical and mental stamina to do it all. I feel like my children are missing everything and that I’m failing them.

Then one day it dawned on me. You know what? I may not take my kids to special places every day and bust out the finger paint and glue sticks on a regular basis. I probably turn the TV on too much for them, and maybe they ARE missing out on things here and there because I’m just too exhausted to deal with the monumental task of packing everyone up and refereeing an outing. But you know what; I love my children with a ferocity that cannot be measured, and with a depth that I will never be able to put into words. Isn’t that what matters the most anyway? Perhaps at the end of the day, instead of thinking of all the things I should have done, or didn’t do with them today, perhaps I should really be thinking of all the things I DID do with them. Maybe I shouldn’t be measuring how much “stuff” I do with my children, but with how much LOVE I do the stuff. In 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13, God teaches us that the greatest of all things is LOVE. It shows us that in no matter what we do, without love, it counts for NOTHING.

Love never fails, love always perseveres.

I recently watched the movie, “Mom’s night out.” It ends with one of the frazzled mothers reflecting on how she’s actually NOT failing at this mommy thing. It really hit home with me and I’d like to share a quote because I think it’s something we all need to hear. She says,

“I’m not perfect. I make plenty of mistakes, but I am right where God wants me to be and He has given me everything I need to be a mom. I’m a mess. But I’m a beautiful mess. I’m His masterpiece. And that’s enough.” ---Mom’s Night Out

I pour myself out to each of my children every single day. I love them with wreckless abandon. I'm doing my best, and I think, at least in God's eyes...it's enough.