It’s been a tough week.
Some of you will know that I had a yucky encounter at the train station last Wednesday, which left me feeling very vulnerable and upset. And I just kinda crumbled.
Don’t go getting worried – it wasn’t that kind of encounter – it was simply a woman (who didn’t know better) attacking me for my parenting skills, because they clearly didn’t align with hers. And in the process she somehow undermined my faith in myself, and my self worth as a capable parent. (But let it be said here that I will still do whatever it takes to stop my child running at a moving train, whether it makes me look like a bad parent or not!).
I know as parents, especially mothers, we all questions ourselves. Continually. And we never quite feel like we’re as good as we could be. Or should be. The last thing we want is a stranger re-affirming our doubts, convincing us that really aren’t capable of doing a perfect job of raising our children after all. But I suspect that we aren’t, and never will be. I don’t think there is a perfect way of guiding a little person down the path to becoming a big person, without making a few mistakes along the way. But we do the best we can while we can. And while we mightn’t do things ‘perfectly’ all the time , we can love these little versions of us with as much perfection as we can muster, every moment of their lives. And I KNOW I’m good at that. I couldn’t love our two little ones more if I tried. I don’t need to be perfect. I just need to be there.
So I’ve learnt this week to stop trying. I’ve given myself permission to relax and enjoy this ride. To be silly when I should be serious. To have fun when I could be working. To bury my nose in the fold of my son’s neck and breathe in, inhaling his innocence and unconditional love. To laugh so hard I can’t breathe.
I may not be perfect. But I’m happy. And I’m the best mother my children will have. That’s good enough for me.
And because a little bit of sillyness goes a long way on a Tuesday afternoon:
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