By: Linda Thompson
Updated: Aug. 26, 2023
Originally Published: Aug. 26, 2023
I’ve paced, fretted, wept, and even lost my lunch over the chaos that is motherhood. But after a long, hot shower, a glass of wine, a couple of gluten-free cake pops, and a dose of Xanax, I’m ready to tackle this. Let’s dive in.
The Wild Ride of Motherhood
Being a mom is a wild ride. For about 72.3% of the time, it’s pretty great. I can be a bit of a screamer, sure. And yes, I might sometimes cope with my feelings through food — a Pop-Tart here and there might not be my healthiest choice, but hey, at least I haven’t harmed anyone else. Score one for me!
I’ve also been a bit too observant and occasionally shared my thoughts, and yes, I take responsibility for raising these little humans (they may need therapy down the line; we’ve started a fund for it). However, they are their own people, with opinions and quirks that often don’t align with my own brand of madness.
My Colorful Kids
Take, for instance, my kids. One of them was a bridesmaid at a same-sex wedding last week. Another proudly sports Bernie Sanders T-shirts, convinced he still has a shot at the presidency. And then there’s the one who just bought a bumper sticker declaring, “You can take my gun when you pry it from my cold dead fingers.” All of these views diverge pretty sharply from what my husband and I thought we’d instill in them.
And for those who don’t know me, we thought we were stellar parents so we welcomed three more kids through foster care and adoption. One of them is a biter — and when I say “biter,” I mean a full-on T-Rex with a penchant for flesh. Another never stops talking and has no filter whatsoever, often asking, “Why is your head so big?” or “How comes you got such an ugly nose?” Or even, “I hate your baby. I only like my baby.”
After dealing with those two, lovingly dubbed the “vandals,” I keep my mouth shut when kids tumble into the tiger exhibit or the shark tank at the zoo, because I know we’re bound to make headlines at least once during their upbringing.
Aiming to Be a Good Mom
I strive not to be “that mom” — the one standing nervously next to a police car while the fire department figures out how to prevent her kids from being electrocuted. I wring my hands and think, “Where on earth did they even get a hot air balloon from Kentucky Fried Chicken?”
I watch over them. I guide them. I pray for them. I cut the crust off their sandwiches and even clean their ears and clip their nails. Yet, despite my best efforts, they are still a hot mess.
Unique Talents and Individual Paths
Our 14-year-old has a gift for playing the piano by ear, a talent she’s had since she was two. She can really sing too, which honestly creeps us out a bit. We lock our door at night because we might just fear her power. We tread lightly around her, knowing that if we upset her, she might just burn the house down with her mind.
Of course, we’re grateful for her talents and daydream that they’ll eventually pay for her college, or better yet, that she’ll become a superstar and care for us in our old age. But her achievements? They’re hers alone. She’s her own individual.
Parenting and Individuality
In today’s world, we often associate our parenting worth with our children’s accomplishments. If a kid messes up, it’s usually the mom who gets blamed. “She really messed that kid up,” they say.
I won’t argue — I probably did. But let’s not forget the traits they come with, the parts of their personality that are simply innate.
On my bookshelves, you’ll find well-loved books on raising strong-willed, defiant, and learning-different children. My journals are filled with the prayers of a worried, frazzled mom. My blog chronicles the challenges, from military school to failed homeschooling, police visits, and the downright terrifying moments of motherhood.
In my heart, you’d find the jagged pieces of a woman desperate to raise happy, healthy, God-fearing individuals. Sure, they’re part of me, but they’re also distinct beings with their own paths.
Embracing Imperfection
They may shine bright, but I can assure you they’ll stumble too. They might offend others, get into trouble, or lead someone astray — and while I hope that’s not the case, I know I can’t mold them into perfection.
Recently, while at Target, I witnessed a young mom trying to manage her child with special needs. The struggle was palpable, and the boy’s tantrum was hard to watch. The glares she received from those around her were even worse. My daughter, another mom, and I stepped in to help her with her shopping and get her and her son to the car. She was drenched in sweat and tears, and as we buckled her boy into his seat, she sobbed, “I’m not a bad mom. I’m doing my absolute best. He is my whole world…”
Yes, these children are undeniably a part of us. Yet, they are also their own people, with unique talents, flaws, and paths ahead of them. One may need medication; another might require legal assistance. One might even cure cancer, while another could find joy working at McDonald’s.
Despite our hopes and dreams for them, they are their own entities.
I wrote this blog for myself and for that mom at Target, to remind us both: My kids aren’t perfect, and neither am I. But I am a good mom.
Summary
This humorous and relatable exploration of motherhood highlights the chaos and individuality of children. The author shares personal anecdotes about her diverse family, emphasizing that while children may not always embody their parents’ ideals, they are still loved and supported. The blog serves as a reminder that imperfections are part of the journey of parenting, and that recognizing our children’s unique paths is vital to fostering their growth.