I wasn’t the best daughter growing up. I was difficult, rude, and very, very strong willed. I caused my parents a lot of pain mixed with the joy, and made decisions that I know embarrassed them in many ways. Now as I get older, and especially as I have a child of my own, I realize some of what they dealt with in raising four kids and try to be a better daughter.
I wasn’t the greatest friend, and in many ways this still rings true. I am forgetful and judgemental. I don’t like to be drawn into drama or petty fights, and so I simply retreat. Because we moved so much when I was little, I give up on friendships easily.
I wasn’t the ideal employee – and it really depended on the job. My personal life and feelings often got in the way of me doing my best. I dreaded waking up for work no matter what I did. And if I didn’t like my job? Heaven help my boss.
I’m not the most wonderful wife, although I am working on it. I’m moody, defensive, and angry at things that happened in the past that I still can’t let go of. I’m OCD about having things tidy to the point of unhealthy. I nag my husband and many times won’t back down from a fight it’s pretty obvious I started for no good reason. But since I love my husband and he is a good man, I’m trying my very best to work on these things.
I never really found my niche. I was happy, but not totally fulfilled in my life’s work, the day to day.
Then I became a mother. Some days it’s rough. I get no privacy. No space. Very little alone time to think. My house is always a mess. I have been puked and pooped on. My child causes drama in public places that makes me want to run and hide. At times I feel pulled in 50 different directions and wonder if what I’m doing is right for her.
Yet, I love to be with her. I look forward to waking up and spending the day with her. To watch her grow and learn new things. To see her mimic me in so many ways. To cook and clean with her underfoot, and pick up her toys at the end of the day. If I’m moody or cranky, she pulls me out of it because she deserves my best. I love to be near her when we read a book, to smell her faint baby smell. And to pray over her at night.
I go to bed knowing that no matter what else in life I might do, being her mother matters more than anything.
All that I was in the past prepared me for this. It made me thankful for what I have, aware of how choices affect children, and understand that life isn’t all about me. So while I wasn’t the greatest at many things, and still am working on all of it, I know one thing I can say with confidence about myself.
I? I am a damn good mother.