Better Than Enough

I’m a really good mom. I’m not a perfect mom, I’m not a role model mom, I’m not a Pinterest mom, I’m not even a saintly mom. I’m not an example to be held up for others to follow, God forbid any such nonsense. Kelly Corrigan in her memoir The Middle Place talks about women who have four children, and the passes they get on expectations over volunteering and clean houses and even working if they don’t want to. No one questions it. Yeah, she has four kids, it’s a lot. I laughed with a gleeful smug expression I’m sure would’ve made her hate me instantly, but its so true. All of the benefits apply. My house is a damn disaster area about 125% of the time.  I don’t volunteer my time at their school, I don’t set up activities for them around the house, and they watch a LOT of tv. In fact, I do half the things I thought I’d be doing as a stay at home mom, and yet. I know I’m a really good mom. 

My kids know I love them. They don’t know it because I only get my hair done twice a year so we can afford their theater classes. They don’t know it because I gave up my career as a special education teacher because we couldn’t find a caregiver that was meeting my standards. They know it because I tell them constantly and show them by slipping things they really like but they know I don’t approve of into their lunchboxes. (I, too, loved the jello pudding cups in my days at elementary and middle school). They know it because I send them out with jackets and they have to be home when the streetlamps come on no matter what time it is. They know it because I sit with my son Benjamin every night and read a chapter of a book to him. They know it because when I realize I’ve gone a whole day without looking into my son Jamie’s eyes because he’s the third child and super self-sufficient, I find him and I pull him into my lap and I cover his face with kisses and ask him what he dreamed about the night before. They know it because they can see my delight in their baby brother, and when they ask ‘did you think I was that cute/hilarious/did you kiss me THAT much?’ my answer is always, of course, yes, yes, yes.

They don’t know that when my second son Peter was diagnosed with autism I went back to graduate school because a fierce -nothing -can- stop- me -from -getting -you -everything- you- need- exactly- as -you- need- it mother -bear- monster was awoken within my soul. No amount of student loan debt was going to keep me from learning exactly what those things were. They don’t really understand that when Ben was becoming targeted and then ostracized at school because he couldn’t maintain himself due to severe ADHD, and we had to pull them and bring them home to homeschool and I had to quit my very part-time but promising job as an autism applied behavior analysis therapy tech, that it was my deep deep love that kept me going and had Greg working insane hours to keep us afloat. When I realized I wasn’t sure they would know how much I loved them if I kept them home all the time, and when I realized that even though I enjoyed the freedom from public school structure and schedule, I really needed the days to think my own thoughts and dream my own dreams and maybe speak to another adult every now and then, it was love that had Greg and I moving to a small town with excellent schools, when we swore we’d always stay in our beloved Albuquerque. They do know that we moved so they could go to those schools, because we told them constantly, especially Peter, who was very upset by the change, but delighted that he got to go back to school. 

Look, I’m a good mom, and probably a great one, and you probably are, too. Let’s stop pretending we suck, or that we’re perfect, or let’s stop thinking we’re always failing because even though we probably are, we’re also succeeding; we’re succeeding profoundly, in a million ways big and small, every day, every week, every year. Let’s play the long game and let go of that dinner of fruit snacks and canned spaghettios our little darlings enjoyed last night because it is absolutely unreasonable to have to make 5 people dinner every. Single. Night. I am better than enough for all of my people, and when we honestly look around, I bet that applies to most of us.