Motherhood and imperfection: musings on the makings of a good mommy

We all know the days. Those days when you feel like if one more person touches you, or if another child screeches like his leg has just been spontaneously amputated because someone changed the TV channel, you just know your head is going to explode.

I have a confession, fellow mommy: I yell at my children sometimes.

I don’t do it often, but on those days when the mommy thing seems like so much more pressure than running a newspaper or writing an investigative story on a public official who might or might not threaten (again) to arrest me before it’s all said and done: I yell. 

Often, what I yell is, “If you guys don’t knock it off right now, Mommy’s head is going to explode!”

I didn’t really realize that this was my go-to line until I heard the children playing house one day, and my preschool-age son was being “mommy.” From the playroom I heard, “Seriously, guys? My head is going to essplode!”

I laughed for a solid 30 seconds. 

And then I spent the rest of the day feeling like the worst mommy in the world because my children were playing "mommy loses her temper." 

I sit up at night and watch my babies sleep sometimes, and I go over every imperfect moment of the day … week … month in my head and wonder if I’m doing a good enough job with these miraculous little people I am so blessed to have call me “Mommy.”

What’s that? You’ve been there, too? You don’t say. It turns out, as we sit around our cups of Starbucks and chat, that a good many (like, all) of my Richmond mommy friends know what we’re talking about, too. So, fellow mommy: come inside. Have a seat. Let me get you a cup of coffee or a tall glass of iced tea, and let’s talk about what makes a good mom. All those late night thinking sessions and a good deal of reading and quizzing my mommy friends has brought me to a theory. Why don’t you and I put it to the test?

Have you ever … 

… bawled over a long-lost Mother’s Day card with tiny handprints on it because those hands are so much bigger now than they were then?

… lain awake at night, worrying or praying (or both) because the baby who always breakdances on your bladder at 2 a.m. is very, very still?

… held a frightened child as their vomit runs out of your hair and into your lap, not really caring about anything except helping your baby feel better?

… watched the same episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (or Thomas, or Barney) so many times you can recite the script word for word, because your toddler’s face lights up when their favorite character comes onto the TV?

… lain in a hospital bed in agony, but refused medication because you were afraid painkillers might be bad for the baby no matter what the kindly nurse told you?

… smiled through the taste of Neosporin on your lips because your little one insisted that mommy kisses work better than medicine?

… bounced on a yoga ball for hours with a colicky infant because it was the only thing that helped him feel better?

… played Weebles even though you were bored to tears, because it made your child smile?

… eaten pizza and PB&J for dinner because you promised he could choose the menu?

… gone to Target in your pajamas to get Gatorade and crackers for a sick little one?

… felt your heart swell and your eyes tear when your baby gave up something they wanted in order to help someone in need, as you stood in awe of this little soul you helped bring into the world?

… abandoned a mountain of laundry to climb a tree even though you were deathly afraid, because it made your child laugh?

… sat by a hospital bed and stared at your miracle, hooked up to tubes and wires and looking ever so small, and offered up anything and everything you’ve ever even thought about wanting if God would just make your baby well?

… fallen into bed on Christmas Eve more excited than when you were a kid yourself, because you couldn't wait to see their faces in the morning?

… held yourself in place, heart in your throat, as your baby climbed the slide tower because you knew how much she wanted to do it herself?

… cheered a children’s ballgame or dive meet like the Olympic trials because your baby just nailed a play they’ve been working on for weeks?

… gone to help at a school party after being up all night feeding a newborn?

… felt your heart leap when you saw the second pink line on the pregnancy test?

… wrecked your house in the name of childhood magic on St. Patrick’s Day?

… stayed up until the wee hours sewing a costume?

… spent half a day baking and decorating the perfect birthday cake to see them smile for ten minutes before your masterpiece was hacked up and devoured?

… cried with them over a first broken heart?

… driven yourself batty reading pregnancy books only to have your significant other confiscate and dispose of them so you’d stop freaking yourself out?

… wanted to smack another child for hurting your baby’s feelings?

… stared at the ceiling until after one, waiting to hear a key in the lock so you'd know they were home safely?

… cried your own tears of relief when you heard that first raspy newborn wail?

… smoothed her hair back while she slept, thanking God for making you a mommy and whispering that no matter how big she gets, she’ll always be your baby girl?

I'll bet you answered “Yes,” to a good many of those, didn’t you? 

Here’s my theory, fellow mommy: if that’s what you do on the front lines of parenthood, day in and day out, then you needn’t lose another minute of sleep over whether or not you’re a good mom. 

Being a mom is hard work, whether you have one child or six. No one is perfect at their job 100 percent of the time, and no one gets through 100 percent of their frustration without losing their temper now and again — ever kick a copy machine? Thump a printer? Look at it this way: you likely don’t kick or thump your kids, so your patience with them is better than it is with office equipment.

At the end of the day, being a good mom is, a lot of the time, about putting another person’s happiness in front of your own. That’s not always fun, and sometimes you might even resent it, but here’s the most basic test: have you ever worried that you’re not a good enough mommy?

In my experience, people who really aren’t don’t concern themselves with such things.

So take heart, fellow mommy. Your babies know you’re a good mom. And you should, too.

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