Admitting our flaws as parents is one of the hardest things to do, especially when we admit them in front of other parents - specifically, mothers. Since becoming a "Mom" over four years ago, I have witnessed the cruelty and quick-slip tongues of mothers jumping at the chance to rip on other mothers for their habits, their choices, and their lifestyles.
It's become second-nature to judge others, to highlight the wrong-doings of those around us - we rarely take the time to put all that attention and negative focus on ourselves. I have no problem shouting my flaws from the roof for the world to hear. They are what make me human, and without acknowledging that I am one heavily flawed individual, I can never grow, never learn and never move past this person I am, here in this moment.
I've yelled at my children, my six month old included. I have locked my daughter out of the bathroom while she fell into a pile of tears on the floor outside because I just needed a minute. I have lost my temper in public, threatened to spank my child all over a parking lot. I have wished for more time away from them, felt resentment towards them when I didn't get to do something I wanted to do. I have done just about everything wrong in the Parenting 101 handbook (that doesn't really exist, no matter how long you spend searching for it), and I have been Bad Mom of the Year several times over.
I am, at times, a bad parent. I openly and gladly accept and admit it.
Because accepting it and admitting to myself makes me a better parent. For as many bad and dark moments I have as a mother, I have a hundred more wonderful and good moments.
I love my children, tell them both daily over and over again just how much. I kiss them, hold their hands and run my fingers through their hair. I play games, roll around in the floor and hide under blankets 'til I'm out of breath and blue in the face. I kiss skinned knees, mop up puke in the middle of the night, rescue lost toys and give in more times than I refuse. I encourage imaginations and dreams, play pretend on a whim, listen to the same song in the car a hundred times over, teach recipes, explain a million questions and give so much more than I take.
I am, at times, a great parent.
Having dark moments does not define us as bad parents - the memories of bad parenting moments will haunt us forever, I'm sure. I still cringe recalling my bad moments, the feeling is just under the surface always ready to make me feel less than human. But the love that boils just underneath those bad feelings surpasses any fear or doubt I have about myself as a mother. I am a good mother - no one can take that away from me, regardless what they might say. I love my girls, and I know they know it.
I don't mind taking a good long look in the mirror sometimes - for them, it makes me a better person. For me, it makes me love them even more.
It's become second-nature to judge others, to highlight the wrong-doings of those around us - we rarely take the time to put all that attention and negative focus on ourselves. I have no problem shouting my flaws from the roof for the world to hear. They are what make me human, and without acknowledging that I am one heavily flawed individual, I can never grow, never learn and never move past this person I am, here in this moment.
I've yelled at my children, my six month old included. I have locked my daughter out of the bathroom while she fell into a pile of tears on the floor outside because I just needed a minute. I have lost my temper in public, threatened to spank my child all over a parking lot. I have wished for more time away from them, felt resentment towards them when I didn't get to do something I wanted to do. I have done just about everything wrong in the Parenting 101 handbook (that doesn't really exist, no matter how long you spend searching for it), and I have been Bad Mom of the Year several times over.
I am, at times, a bad parent. I openly and gladly accept and admit it.
Because accepting it and admitting to myself makes me a better parent. For as many bad and dark moments I have as a mother, I have a hundred more wonderful and good moments.
I love my children, tell them both daily over and over again just how much. I kiss them, hold their hands and run my fingers through their hair. I play games, roll around in the floor and hide under blankets 'til I'm out of breath and blue in the face. I kiss skinned knees, mop up puke in the middle of the night, rescue lost toys and give in more times than I refuse. I encourage imaginations and dreams, play pretend on a whim, listen to the same song in the car a hundred times over, teach recipes, explain a million questions and give so much more than I take.
I am, at times, a great parent.
Having dark moments does not define us as bad parents - the memories of bad parenting moments will haunt us forever, I'm sure. I still cringe recalling my bad moments, the feeling is just under the surface always ready to make me feel less than human. But the love that boils just underneath those bad feelings surpasses any fear or doubt I have about myself as a mother. I am a good mother - no one can take that away from me, regardless what they might say. I love my girls, and I know they know it.
I don't mind taking a good long look in the mirror sometimes - for them, it makes me a better person. For me, it makes me love them even more.
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