It hasn't been my most stellar year of mothering. I have discovered a new level of hard I didn't know about yet. The sheer number of little people, the drama of a three year old with a lovely and yet intense personality, the needs of a baby. I kind of thought I had this thing under control up until now. It's a gift really, being humbled and joining the ranks of real parenting. Even though I like to reflect (i.e. mildly obsess) on my parenting on a regular basis, this Mother's Day I find myself with new and confusing feelings.
I'm not sure I deserve all the hoopla of honor, I have never been so edgy and made so many mistakes. It's been more of a triumph of survival and I'd be horrified and hurt if there was no fanfare at all. Sound familiar?
This is the year when I remember I birthed these children.
This is the year I discover how forgiving children are when they proudly present me with a macaroni necklace made at school.
This is the year to tell my husband what I would like to do because I need to know I am loved regardless of my performance.
This is the year to remember the 1,000 tiny things I do to keep this family going.
This is a year for self care, forgiveness and a new start.
This is the year that I run towards what brings me joy so I can bring it back to my family.
This is the year I tell my mom I understand her and love her in a new way.
Are you having the opposite kind of year? Do you desperately need everyone around you to see you in all your mothering glory?
Every mother I know seems to have a love/hate relationship with Mother's Day. What's your feeling about it? Tell us in the comments.