Sometimes my memory acts funny. I’ll be making breakfast or showering, then out of nowhere, I remember the most random things. It’s almost as if my recall comes out to play when the rest of my brain is in repose.
This morning, while flipping bacon and brewing coffee, I had the sweetest memory from when my kiddo was a tiny baby. We were grocery shopping and he was so little that he had to be in the carrier part of the car seat. I loved this. I could see his face and we could “talk”. I would echo every noise he made and he would giggle. I would make silly faces and he would squeal and kick his tiny little legs.
It makes my heart bend in half with joy to remember those sweet moments. I have so many snapshot memories of him as a baby, a toddler, a little tiny boy. In each one he’s grinning, laughing, curious, mischievous…such precious memories are immediately at hand. Moments when I felt I was really doing a great job with this tiny human.
The other memories, the ones when I thought I was failing at being a mom, are the ones I have to put forth an effort to trudge up. They’re packed away and dust-covered, because they don’t matter.
Memories of a red faced, squalling, hungry infant, and a clumsy breastfeeding mom in the waiting area of a restaurant. A teething baby, inconsolable and howling so loudly at 3am I was sure the neighbors heard and called CPS. An emergency room visit, complete with infant X-rays, because we couldn’t get an ear infection to go away and his fever skyrocketed. Leaving him at daycare to help provide for our family and seeing his sweet face crumple as I walked out the door. Him throwing a world record fit at Target because I wouldn’t (and honestly couldn’t) buy him a toy.
Now I’m crying, remembering these things, because self-grace is not something moms are “supposed” to have. It’s like an unwritten law that we use the fierce power of mom guilt to propel us forward. And as I live and breathe, that is such a load of garbage. Like, lies from the devil, capital b capital s, it just ain’t true – GARBAGE.
I wish I could own that as much as I want to. As I stand here, pontificating on the parenting of toddlers, I’m LOST AT SEA with my teenager. And lord have mercy, the guilt and doubt create a constant state of insecurity that’s stronger than ever. Before, when he was tiny and attached to me, I had snuggles and nose kisses to reassure me that I wasn’t failing him.
Now I’m met with a closed door to his bedroom (always knock first, moms!), short answers, and a half hug once a week (I’m being rationed). Now I’m reassured that I’m not failing him by seeing him push himself, even as he pushes me away.
But I know I’m following my gut. I’m leaning on my tribe (thank you, you know who you are, and I love you more than I love my luggage). I’m trying on grace like a two piece bathing suit after a few weeks in the gym. It almost feels right, but I’m still so insecure.
So, I go back to the most wise advice I’ve ever been given for parenting. It came from the monolith of wisdom that was my father. He caught me weeping in his garage as a newly divorced and terrified mother.
It was the first Christmas post-divorce, the first one where I had to provide a happy one to Truitt on a single income. It was, to say the least, skimpy. Dad found me and whipped me into shape. Reminded me that stuff doesn’t matter.
He said:
“Kids need three things: love, discipline, and consistency. Trust that and everything will come together.”
Man, oh man. He was right. He’s still right. I look at this young man living in my house and I’m stunned at who he has become. He’s been loved, he’s been disciplined, and I’ve been consistent in those things. I’ll continue to believe my father’s wisdom in this next chapter of our life as a family and apply grace abundantly like a salve.
So, momma -the one with the crying baby at the restaurant, the one with the toddler screaming in the checkout line, the one with the sulky preteen, the quiet, distant teenager- keep doing what you’re doing… loving, disciplining, and remaining constant. You’re absolutely killing it as a mom. ❤️❤️❤️
The Reluctant Cat Lady 