I've been doubting my mothering skills, or lack there of, lately. While hubby has been away, I've had several individuals (I'm sure completely well meaning albeit incredibly annoying) inform me of the many, many things that I'm doing wrong. The who's, what's, when's, where's, why's, and how's are all addressed, picked apart, and informed how to do differently...correctly. The hits have come from every angle leaving nothing to chance. Every part of who I am and how I'm doing life has been observed and torn apart.
Being a self-professed people pleaser, I am not one to ever disagree with or correct. Basically...I just take it! And then boil and stew over it later. I'll be the first to confess that I have most assuredly screwed my kids up to the point of necessary intervention and therapy in later years. Mistakes, blunders, and faux pas happen daily in my house...and mostly by me. I'm cranky, moody, temperamental, and kind of bossy. It's true...just nod along (ask my hubby...but I'm certain he will answer 'no' to that question mainly because he hates the dog house). But I'm "mom" (and "dad" for the last year and counting) and all things -ALL THINGS- run through me. I mean...I AM running an empire of one-day kings, I have lots to do!
With all that goes into my 5 princes, I admit some things fall through the cracks. I like to refer to it as "picking my battles", but to the outsider it must look like slacking off, and when that judgemental you-know-better-than-that glance or "I told you so" demeanor slaps me in the face, I doubt my track record in this game of life. I recount everything I've done wrong as a mama, every moment that was less than angelic, every growl directed at my child, every frozen meal or drive thru supper I've divied out to my crew. All of it makes me doubt my success at mothering...maybe God gifted the wrong mama with these boys. Raising boys into men is no easy task, after all, and I may be messing them up.
But every now and then, something brings me back, centers my thoughts, and squeezes my heart; a random snuggle from a 9 year old that's growing up way too quickly, goobery kisses from my 5 year old that can't seem to get his fill of "loves", the unconditional smile from my 4 month old when I look at him, a 3 year old that "needs" mommy to kiss every single owie because it makes it better......or an "I love you" from my 13 year old...at the baseball field...in front of the other players. Yes, I've made plenty of mistakes and am bound to make hundreds more, but I think my princes are my ultimate success. A teenage boy proclaiming "I love you" to his mom in her minivan seems pretty victorious to me.
Maybe I'm not the one that's here for them...maybe they are here for me...