I’ve always been the analytical type, and even as a child I enjoyed searching for the answer in my Mom’s Encyclopedia Brittanica. Today I have Google, and boy do I use it. But some things I just can’t find online. And some answers are hard to come by.
Some days I think I have no idea what I’m doing, and most days I am quite certain I’m doing it completely wrong.
How do you get out of the house on time?
Where do shoes go, and why is one always missing?
I don’t know.
Why do I promise myself I’ll be more patient, that I won’t yell today, but then I do it anyway?
Why do I feel like a failure, like I’m really messing up this mommy thing big time?
I don’t know what I’m doing! And I don’t know if I ever will. Completely.
How can I want to strangle my child if I hear one more whiny word? But then when I look at her I lose my breath at how completely perfect she is. And I can’t imagine letting anything in this world hurt her.
What if I have hurt her, or I’ve damaged her by saying the wrong thing, or answering the questions wrong. Or not being patient enough, loving enough, or compassionate like she deserves.
Oh God, I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m doing it all wrong.
I see them sleeping, or when the sun catches their hair. So beautiful, so perfect. And I want to get it all right. I want to do this the very best I can.
I don’t know what I’m doing, and I feel clueless. But I know I love them.
I desire to be the best me I can be, and as long as I draw breath I will continually strive to be what they deserve.
I’ll get it wrong, so wrong. I’ll mess up, and I’ll wonder if I’ll ever figure it out. But I won’t give up.
I’ll keep trying, day in, and day out. And when I don’t know, I’ll just keep on keeping on.
I’ve never persevered so thoroughly despite my feelings of inadequacy. I’ve never wanted to succeed at something so ferociously. I have no idea what I’m doing, but that’s okay.
I’ll figure it out. And not having the answer has never been so enjoyable. How I can flourish in the face of faults is beyond me, but I do.
When I hold them close, breathing in their very essence, I feel like I’m doing okay, and I can’t imagine doing anything else. I look at the precious little lives in my care, and I feel blessed. Even in my ignorance, I feel blessed, complete, and as if I could conquer the world.
When I can soothe their cries, and they say “Momma,” and “I love you;” I am complete. And I feel like I know everything I need to know at the moment.
I celebrate the small victories, and I cherish those moments when I feel like I did good. I look at my babies, and I know, I did good. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m doing okay. I’m doing good.
Denise says
I have always said that parenting is the one “job” for which there is no instruction manual…. And yet it’s the most rewarding “job” that we will ever have. Parenting completes our being and purpose in life… It makes us whole in ways that we never imagined. Once a parent, always a parent… It doesn’t end just because our children grow up and eventually begin families of their own. Parenting is inbred in our being, and it provides, for many of us, the completion of our existence here on earth. Parenting is a privilege and those of us to whom it has been entrusted are blessed.
My greatest joy in life is witnessing the amazing, responsible and caring young people who are our children. “To whom much has been given, much is expected.”
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you. Great comment, and I so agree.