Not Feeling Like an Amazing Momma? Advice from a Second-hand Mother

“I could have been an amazing mother if I could have just parented our kids a week at a time,” I said, confessing to my husband.

“You are an amazing mother,” he said—always the encourager.

“Well maybe so, but I just had the best week with the girls. We baked, did crafts, read stories, I didn’t even need to worry about dinner. If I didn’t have to worry about cleaning this house and cooking, I’d be the most amazing mother!”

Can you relate?

It’s the stuff we have to do in life that gets in the way of our amazing. I know this, because, you see, I’m a mother parenting for the second time around.

My four kids were nearly grown, launched, out-a-here, when God brought three little sisters to my door step. We started keeping them a week at a time. A momma for a week. It worked.

I had time to plan. I knew when they were coming. The dates scratched on my calendar months in advance. Craft ideas planned and purchased. Check. Meal ideas, planned and groceries purchased. Check. Check. A thorough cleaning before they arrived. CHECK. I was ready. My ducks were in a row. And, perhaps more honestly, I knew there was an end. I could shop and clean next week. It was time to play and do mother stuff. The fun stuff.

Image courtesy of Stewart Miles/FreeDigitalPhotos.net 

 And I was AMAZING! And I felt AMAZING!

Then came a summer.

Then the summer ended.

And then . . . the point of no return. Literally.

They came. They stayed. Oh, and yes, they conquered.

I could barely breathe. So much to plan. No time to plan.  So much to consider. No time to consider. It was no longer camp at Aunt Carolyn’s. It. Was. Life.

“Sorry kiddo, I can’t help you with that puzzle, I’ve got to go make a grocery list.”

“Stop what you’re doin.’ Everybody in the mini-van, NOW! We’re outa milk.”

“Sorry Squirt, I can’t read right now, the cat just used the mound of dirty laundry for his litter box.”

You would think because I’d already parented before, it would have been easier. I’m a second-hand mother for crying out loud. Ha! So much for thinking.

Oh, if motherhood, well . . . could just be motherhood. If we didn’t have to be a maid, a teacher, a personal administrator, the cook, the house keeper, the taxi driver, the recreation director, the “If you don’t get this right, you’re going to screw up the lives of three otherwise healthy human beings” director. Yeah. Did I miss anything? (Please feel to comment below.)

I don’t know about you, but sometimes, I’d just like to parent a week at a time. So then I can feel amazing.

But somehow I think it’s in the feelings where I can lose perspective with AMAZING.

My kids do need clean underwear, whether doing laundry makes me feel amazing or not.

My kids do need meals, whether grocery shopping or making dinner makes me feel amazing or not.

My kids do need a semi-organized home, whether cleaning up makes me feel amazing or not.

Yes, I think we can be amazing mothers, whether we feel that way or not.

Can a Mother Find Rest? HOPE for Too-Pooped-to-Party Moms

I sent my pal an email today. We had bailed out of the last day of a training conference last week to go home and be moms. I wrote, “So glad we didn’t go Saturday. I needed to be a mom and rest—not sure rest and mom fit in the same line, but somehow I managed to do both.”

Is life tugging at you? Are you too pooped to function, let alone party?

Yep, I get that way too. I no sooner run toward one end the see-saw and the other end soars up into the air. My stomach rolls. I do a flip with a twist. Land with bent knees. A jolt. Facing the opposite direction. Racing toward the other end, I attempt to bring balance back to this thing called life.

Exhausted. Grumpy. Overwhelmed. Out of balance. Dizzy.

This does not make for a happy contented Carolyn. This does not make for a peaceful, contented mom. And if mom ain’t happy . . .

So how did rest and motherhood collide for me last weekend and land in the same sentence on Monday?

I ignored a bunch of crap. Yeah, crap. Crap like dusty furniture, sticky floors, and dirty laundry. Crap like weedy flowerbeds, empty flower pots, and grimy porch furniture.

And I played. Yeah, played. My daughter had a craft project she wanted to complete for a teacher who is retiring. So we hopped in the mini-van, went to Lowes, and got our supplies. Then we made a mess. A big mess. But in the mess, we made a gift for someone else. And a memory.

 

Image courtesy of Lisa McDonald at FreeDigitalPhoto.net

I don’t know how you play. Perhaps for you, a craft project is torture. I get that. But have you played recently? Do you remember how? Take some time to reminisce and then play. Play with one of your kids or all of them. Play until you giggle. Play until you don’t care about the mess. Just play. And in the play, I promise you—you will find rest.

  

We will always have the crap. But we won’t always have our kids. I know this to be true, because I’m a momma parenting for the second time around.

When was the last time you played? I'd love to hear about it. Add a comment, and I'll draw one winner at random for a FREE copy of Nowhere but Up: The Story of Justin Bieber's Mom. The winner will be posted next Thursday. So, be sure to stop back.

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