I found myself at a local café, enjoying a smoothie with my 5-year-old son, Max. We were engaged in various fun learning activities—laughing, writing in journals about our favorite people, charting out conversation hearts, and diving into books. At that moment, I noticed a woman nearby, smiling at us with a look of admiration. She must think I’m a fantastic mom, I thought, reveling in her approval.
What she didn’t see was the chaos from just an hour prior. My two sons were tangled in an argument over paint stains, with Max in a panic about the mess on his hands. His little brother, Jake, was already up on the step stool, trying to wash his own hands, which led to a cacophony of whining and tempers flaring.
Normally, I’m the kind of mom who strives to redirect and turn misbehavior into learning moments, but that day my energy was drained. Despite my two cups of coffee, I felt exhausted before the sun even climbed high in the sky. I sat quietly, applying mascara, hoping they would resolve their issue without my intervention, but instead, I erupted.
In retrospect, nothing was particularly out of the ordinary. The whining and complaints felt like a normal part of the day, but perhaps the constant pressure finally pushed me over the edge. I put down my mascara, scooped up my preschooler, and tossed him onto the couch. Ironically, I yelled at him about needing to be calm and mature. “You’re 5! Stop acting like a baby!” I snapped.
I forced a shirt onto him and insisted he was going to school, even though we had agreed to homeschool. In a fit of frustration, I threw an umbrella stroller across the room, feeling a momentary rush of release even though I knew I was in the wrong.
Jake came over, trying to teach me to take deep breaths—something we practiced together often—but instead, I stormed into my bedroom, slamming the closet doors in my wake. I let out a frustrated roar, the kind that feels good temporarily but leaves your throat sore afterward.
When I re-emerged, still fuming about Max’s outburst, he shot back, “What about you?” He was right, and his words snapped me out of my rage. I took a deep breath and calmly acknowledged, “We both have work to do.”
The look on his face was one I had never seen before—hurt and disappointment, and it broke my heart. I asked, “I can see you don’t like me right now. What should we do?” He simply said, “Make it better and be nicer to each other.”
We cuddled under a blanket, and he admitted he felt bad. I echoed his sentiment, and we talked about loving each other—and ourselves—better. I encouraged him to affirm his worth, and then tried to do the same for myself, but it felt disingenuous. I reminded him how hard it is to be a mom, always putting others first, and he agreed, “It is hard being 5 with a little brother.”
We shared our feelings, apologized for our earlier outbursts, and headed to the YMCA, where we looked like the ideal family. I asked Max open-ended questions while rubbing his back, genuinely interested in his thoughts. I watched him draw and listened intently as he described his artwork.
While I strive to be a mom who communicates with respect and encourages all feelings, I’m not always the perfect picture people see. It’s tough to admit this, and even as I write, there’s a temptation to downplay my earlier actions. But the truth is, I can be both a wonderful mom and a flawed one.
I often think of a quote by Walt Whitman: “I’m as bad as the worst, but thank God, I’m as good as the best.” This sentiment resonated with me, allowing me to embrace both my imperfections and redeeming qualities. The opinions of others, like that woman at the café, don’t define my worth as a mom; I am who I choose to be every moment.
For more insights on family dynamics and parenting, check out this excellent resource on family building options.
In moments of doubt, remember that navigating parenthood is a journey filled with ups and downs. We’re all a work in progress.
Summary
Parenting is a complex journey filled with highs and lows. While it’s easy to focus on moments of frustration, it’s essential to recognize the love and effort behind each experience. Embracing imperfections can lead to growth and understanding in both ourselves and our children.