Lunchables for dinner. Threatening to chop my child’s head off for misbehavior (I’m KIDDING when I say this and my children know it. Please don’t send me messages or report me.) Keeping extra-curriculars on the down-lo so I don’t have to drive around town like a headless chicken.
You know. Stuff like that.
And while I do believe we all (myself included) need to relax a bit on what we aspire to be as mothers, let’s not kid ourselves . . . .
Mama guilt is real. Very flipping real.
We are so incredibly hard on ourselves for every little thing.
I was talking to my mom about this not too long ago and I said I didn’t remember her yelling at me.
Because she did.
And I don’t remember it. At all.
This doesn’t mean that others don’t remember their parents yelling at them but c’mon.
And no, I realize this doesn’t make it right but it does make us real.
Not to mention that it’s likely our children are never hungry. We shower love on them more often than not. The majority of our communication is the non-yelling kind.
But if you’re like me, you don’t see that part.
You see the part where you dropped the basket, flipped your lid, and convince yourself the next step is hospital admittance.
Or if you’re like me, you envision your children on the sofa of a really good therapist.
I’ve got news for you, sister: You don’t need to be hospitalized and your child will likely need to see a therapist but it probably won’t be because of you.
The world can be a hard place to navigate. There’s just so much coming at us from all angles, isn’t there?
There are unmet expectations and comparisons. Tantrums rolled up with the 7 p.m. lack of mama energy that gives hell on earth a new meaning. Homework to be done. Pets to feed. Meals to make. Dishwashers to unload. Emails to return and the washing machine repairman that’s ready to repair your dead washer but you smartly are avoiding his calls.
A woman’s allowed to lose her cool now and then.
And if you’re like me, it’s likely not going to be lost on something that really matters but instead on something that really doesn’t.
I’ve had meltdowns over Legos. Stuffed animals. Shoes left out one too many times.
Punishments given that don’t even remotely match the crime.
At the end of the day, I sink into my bed, feeling horrible about my parenting, sure they’re doomed for life and knowing full-well they’ll one day be guests on Dr. Phil.
But as I drift off to sleep, I can hear Him say . . . “With you I am well-pleased . . .”
And the next morning? It’s a new day. It’s there for the taking and we don’t have to keep beating ourselves up over yesterday because yesterday is over.
Today, we can try to do better.
And if we don’t?
We strive to have grace with our kids. Our spouse. Our friends, our extended family, the man who cut us off on the freeway.
But having grace with ourselves?
We fail miserably. Or maybe that’s just me.
But if God loves us so much, and He does, it hurts Him when we beat ourselves up over the choices we make when our flesh kicks-in.
We’re doggin’ on His masterpiece.
His masterpiece is you. Yes. You.
Breathe, mama. There’s always tomorrow.
What do you do when the mama guilt threatens to take you down?