Quantcast
Channel: line up the dolls
Viewing all articles
Browse latest Browse all 25

Broken Promises.

0
0
When I was pregnant with my first son I made lots of promises to myself and my unborn child. Every one of these ambitious dreams was wrapped in pretty little bows, with sparkles thrown on top for good measure. I was going to be the best mom ever.

Then Ethan was born.

We went home after two blissful days in the hospital, where nurses tended to both of us at the push of a button. A terrible, cruel act I must say. It really set the precedence for a rude awakening that I was unaware would slap me in the oblivious face just hours upon opening the front door with the long awaited words, "We're home!"

We decided early on that Ethan would sleep in his crib from the get-go. As we went to place his not-so-tiny 9lb body into his perfect little crib, we panicked. "I mean, he's so little. We HAVE to let him sleep with us on his first night at home", we said.

Ethan thought an all night party would be super fun. Instead of laying there quietly and drinking his milk the way 'all the other moms' said he would do, he screamed. All night.

The next 5 months would mimic this night. Colic is what they called it. On the not so bad days Luke and I referred to it as the 4th trimester. On the really tough days we just stated that Ethan hated the world, especially us.

//

What I find myself doing (even after almost 6 years of failing time and time again) is expecting the stars to align in both my own heart and in my children's. For some reason I continually make the mistake of thinking that His mercies aren't just new every morning, but that His love for us erases our human-ness. Yes, each day brings new mercies. I absolutely believe this. However, maybe this mercy isn't an after-the-fact gift, but a before-the-fall one. Maybe God grants us this breath of fresh air preemptively, before the day starts, knowing good and well that we are going to screw up. 

It is out of our immeasurable love that we lay in bed at night feeling guilty for failing as parents. Likewise, It is out of this boundless, unexplainable love that He has for us that a cushion of grace is presented to us before we have even had a chance to blow it with our kids.

//
What if we start admitting to ourselves that we can't do it all. That as well-intentioned as our hearts and minds are as parents, we absolutely CAN NOT do it all-at least not all of it, and not as good as our great intentions can carry out.

While our dream of being a well-rounded parent is admirable and possibly something to strive for in mindful moderation, we must remember that we are not experts at all the things on our list. Not one of us can be a successful nurse, chef, dry cleaner, housekeeper, teacher, carpenter, seamstress in the workforce, yet as parents we feel we carry this responsibility to become perfect at all of these things. 

It's garbage thinking. 

It is a mentality that drowns us. It starts as a thought, turns into a mission, and ultimately our defeat as mothers or fathers. And if being perfect at everything all the time wasn't enough pressure, we have also been taught that we should also wear our best June Cleaver smile while doing it all. The outlook on our children and the duties this role entails does not have to be through a lens of perfection. The beatitudes are not a prerequisite for this job. God does not keep score. He does not judge our days of yelling at the kids and crying in the bathroom, wishing we could afford Montessori. He only looks at our attendance record, and I don't know about you, but showing up is sometimes all I've got.

Mamas, Daddy's- you're showing up. Your doing the work. You are burning cookies, not dusting for months, feeding them non-organic Mac 'n Cheese four days in a row. You are losing your temper by 9am even though you promised yourself this morning that you wouldn't. You are finding yourself looking into your child's eyes and wishing you could just have One.Minute.Alone. 

And you are going to do it again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. So am I. 

I'm not confident in much friends, except that this gig is tough. It's more than any of us can do on our own. Let's start speaking up more about how shitty out day has been. How grueling the mundane tasks can feel after little sleep and no alone time. Let's stop pretending that our children have lived up to our dreams of perfect little humans and embrace the imperfect. Let's get up in the morning and say, out loud, that we are not enough. Let's dive into the pool of grace gifted to us each day and let God and our community and our spouses help us. We all need it.  

So here's to a thicker cushion of grace in the morning. To honesty, vulnerability, and letting the perfection burn right along with that failed "easiest cookie recipe ever" we found on Pinterest. The reality of raising our children is much more beautiful than the idea we imagined up before we held them in our arms for the first time. 

Here's to new promises. To falling to our knees when we can't find patience. To asking a friend for advice and a shoulder to cry on when we don't have the answers. To taking healthy steps toward embracing this unpredictability the best we can, instead of simply trying to be the best.

My promise to myself today is this: I'll keep showing up. I'll keep trusting that a lamp unto my unable feet is sufficient when my unrealistic self desires a well-lit forest. Parenting is the toughest, most rewarding gig on the planet, but the promise of perfection is one worth breaking. 

Breath deep mom, dad~ your grace will be waiting for you tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.







Viewing all articles
Browse latest Browse all 25

Latest Images

Trending Articles





Latest Images