14 September 2015


I had something different in the works to post today, then the night ended up being full of teething and night terrors. I wasn't able to write much as I held and walked babies back to sleep into the early morning hours, but I was able to read and think a little.

There's a lot to be said about being a good mom.

It's given as a compliment, meant to encourage and support. I've offered it up to other mothers in complete and utter sincerity, just as I've had the sentiment extended to me. It can be the reassuring words someone needs to hear and there's nothing wrong with that.

Then there's a hundred articles on how to be one. They all say something different, so take it for what it's worth.

Sometimes, being a "good mom" is worn as a badge of honor. It's senseless, really, because it's a luxury to even be able to make the silly choices that lead to this air of superiority. That's for another day, though.

With all these thoughts swirling around I realized, at 3 am, that my focus is not to be a good mom.

It's just to be a mom.

Their mom.

When I'm in my role as a mother, I have one goal: to be what they need. With three kids, that looks different for each one.

Sometimes it's band-aids on wounds that don't exist; sometimes it's hugs. Sometimes it's French Toast; sometimes it's ketchup and cheese. Sometimes it's dancing; always it's books.

My goal is to be enough for them. My prayer is to know how to give the guidance and support and understanding that they each need, wherever their place in life.

I want to change the world for them. Not because I want to make it easier, but because I want to show them the world can be changed, and that they have the power to change it.

I can't do that while trying for a standard of good that's arbitrary to begin with.

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