Or a few weeks ago, on a Sunday night, when I was working on a blog post. To make matters worse, I was working on a post about a verse I love in Psalms. I had started the post earlier in the day, and late that Sunday night, I was trying to edit it from my phone. (You can see how fast things are unraveling here.) My kids were both talking. They should have been in bed. I should have been in bed. But instead I was tapping my iPhone screen in a desperate attempt to finish a post that was already scheduled.
Then it happened. Distracted by my kids, I hit the wrong button and messed everything up. I yelled at my kids. I got mad at everything and everyone, including my phone, the Internet, and life in general. My oldest son walked away with a hurt look on his face. After all, he was in the middle of trying to tell me something funny he saw earlier that day, and not only was I not giving him my attention, I ended up yelling at him. Not my finest mommy moment. Sadly, it's just one in a long line of epic mommy fail moments.
I wish I could be a perfect mom. I really do. I wish I was a great homemaker (I'm not). I wish I could decorate elaborate birthday cakes, throw beautiful theme parties with the perfect decor and games and goody bags. (I'm doing good to hand out invitations at all, there are no party games, and I forgo goody bags for a piñata. If you want a treat at our parties, you've got to fight for it.) {Click to Tweet that.} I wish I didn't yell at my kids. My mommy wish list goes on and on.
But my kids don't need to see Supermom - they need to see a momma clinging desperately to God's grace, knowing that's the only thing that can pull me through. They need to see my struggles so they see my victories. They need to see me striving to be better so they will know that it's never too late to change and be a better person.
I fail. A lot. But I hope my kids will see that I can't be perfect, and neither can they. But we serve a God who is perfect, and He gives plenty of grace to us, no matter how much we fail.
Hugs, Amanda! I started having do-overs when my kids were in their early teens and we seemed to constantly clash. I'd see things going down the wrong road, (or find myself in the middle of the wrong road), and I would stop, take a deep breath and say, "I'm sorry. We need a do-over! Do you mind?" I'd leave the room and come back in and pretend that nothing had happened. The first couple of times they looked at me as if I had sprouted an extra set up lips and had boogers running out my nose. But they caught on, and we were always happier because we'd had a do-over!
ReplyDeleteOh, man! Mom failures--yes. It's always encouraging to hear stories from other moms, knowing that we're all in this together.
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