A long time ago, when my now-tweens were a pair of littles, I packed up the diaper bag and took them to the library story time.
All my friends went every week with their kids, who sat in the circle and sang the songs and loved the stories. Afterward these mamas browsed for books in the children’s section or sat in tiny chairs to read to their kids. Sometimes, when they’d finished, they’d meet for lunch somewhere with a playground, where the kids could play.
This sounded wonderful. It sounded so fun! And I was so thrilled to be invited.
But in reality?
It felt like kind of a lot–and I felt like a failure.
Why did it feel so hard to skip one of the baby’s naps–one for the whole week!–and keep my kids settled?
Why did I feel constantly tense, on alert, as my kids roamed around the children’s section?
Why, after just an hour or so at the library, was I too emotionally drained to join in on lunch dates?
What was wrong with me?
Why Does Motherhood Feel So Hard?
I felt this same feeling again and again in my early years of motherhood.
A group of mom friends rose early, in the dark, to go on long runs together in the mornings. I tried it. But I didn’t love it like they did.
Other moms organized mass playdates at the park every week. I went to probably one every month.
Other moms threw massive, fantastic birthday parties. They made water-play stations in their backyards in the summertime. They put their babies in backpacks and hiked trails along the Blue Ridge Parkway.
And I didn’t like those things, or want to do those things, and I felt so discouraged.
Like I didn’t fit the motherhood mold.
Like I was doing motherhood wrong.
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I’m Not that Kind of Mom
It took me a long time to figure out that there isn’t a mold.
There are so many kinds of good mothers! And library story time? It’s is an option–not a requirement.
Mama, there are lots of things I’m not:
I’m not a play-pretend-for-hours mom, or a lets-dig-in-the-mud mom.
I’m not a naturally-tidy mom, or a still-patient-after-8pm mom.
I’m not an early riser, a stroller-group runner, or a top-notch-chef mom.
Some moms I know are those moms! They are fabulous at it, they revel in it, and I have to admit–I admire and often long for those gifts and talents!
But the things they excel at don’t have to be my talents and skills, too.
We can be different and still be good mamas to our babies.
The Kind of Mom I Am
My motherhood started flourishing when I recognized that I don’t have to recreate myself to be a good mother.
I can be my own kind of mom.
Here’s what I am:
I’m a mom who carefully teaches her kids how not to fight, agrees that chores are the worst (but says we all have to do them anyway), and passes off all math homework questions to Dad.
I’m a snuggle-on-the-couch mom. A family-swim-at-the-gym-pool mom. A let’s-window-shop-at-Target-and-eat-mini-doughnuts mom. A praying-again-because-I-don’t-know-the-answers mom.
I’m learning to mother in a way that honors who I am, and points my children toward what matters most to us.
And my kids are thriving, not because I know all the secrets, but because I’m thinking and praying and doubling back on my mistakes.
So if you’re caught up in what you’re not, or if you’re doing it right, please–breathe in deeply, and let yourself begin to consider this possibility:
The kind of mother you are, at your core, can be a good kind of mother, too.
xo,
Jamie
p.s. Intentional parenting, “I’m not cut out to be a mother,” & my love-your-kids better cheat sheet!
