I Am the Mom My Kids Need

Gabe and I went away this weekend. It was our 10 year wedding anniversary and I told him we needed to do something. Anything. With three small children (7, 5, and 2) you can imagine how difficult it is to have any alone time. Add in the fact that both of our families live in different states and well, you’ve got a recipe for a marriage that gets put on the back burner.

We started talking about our kids on our way to Eureka Springs. Gabe shared with me that he thought I was too hard on Hannah, our middle child. I immediately went into shaming myself for not seeing it how he saw it. I started beating myself up in my head about the many times I had yelled at her or lost my patience with her. I sat silently in the passenger’s seat and prayed that God would take the heavy weight of my guilt from me right then and there. Sometimes it’s so heavy I feel like I can’t breathe. Gabe reached over and held my hand. “It’s okay. I’m guilty of it too,” He said.

I envy how guys can move on from one thought to the next without getting hung up feelings. I was still stuck in the moment of feeling like a really bad mom; one who doesn’t always see the goodness in my kids. One who doesn’t always love getting on the floor and playing dolls. One who doesn’t feel like watching a kids’ show. One who knows it’s dinner time and the kids are hungry but cooking is the last thing I want to do. Even if it means just making a sandwich. “What is wrong with me?” I thought. I prayed for each one of these children and God gave them to me. He entrusted me as their mother so why am I beating myself up about making mistakes?

Well, the truth is, sometimes I am too hard on Hannah. Sometimes I am too hard on all of my kids. But you know who I’m the hardest on? Me. Myself. Meagan.

Grace, Moms, Parenting, God
This quote popped into my head today. When it did, I knew I had to share it. 

So if God’s mercies are new every day…why do I have such a hard time accepting them? Believing in them? And allowing myself to be human and imperfect? Why do I feel like crying the moment someone says something to me about my parenting? Even if that comment is coming from a loving, caring man like my husband. Well, it’s because I cannot do this without God. I am the mom I was designed to be for my kids just the way I am.  I have flaws. I have moments. But I love these kids fiercely and uninhibitedly without any apologies. Simply put, I am the mom my kids need.

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