I knew how to foster independence while still establishing authority. I knew what to say and when to say it. I knew to pray first and base my parenting on scripture with a group of support both for me and my children. I went to God first with all my worries and left it in His hands. Conflicts between my parenting style and my husbands? They didn’t exist. I knew how to show God’s love, mercy, compassion, by example. Then I became a mother, and even seemingly simple things like sleeping were unsolvable puzzles
“Should we let him cry or rock him to sleep”
“When do I go back to work? Do I go back to work?” what day care should they go to? In home or a stand alone?
“How should I discipline? Spank vs time out vs positive reinforcement vs punishment vs a million other possible strategies.
What food do they eat?? paleo/organic/mcdonalds ??
Should I bribe them to eat, will they starve if they refuse to eat the dinner I made ?
Should they pee in a potty chair vs a big toilet ?
The List could go on and on and my son George is only two and his sister Anneka only 9 months old. The options are endless and my failures just as long.
When we went to the beach for a long weekend I packed everyone’s swim suit except the children’s
When we roofed the barn my son at one and a half independently climbed the ladder to the roof and I having a baby in my arms ran three circles trying to find a way to take the baby on the roof with me while getting the toddler down until finally realizing I could set her on the ground.
Or the many, many, many, many hand fulls of dog food my children have eaten.
Or the time when I picked Anneka up and dropped her on her head (Only from about an inch off the ground but it felt like two feet to me.
Or one of the few moments I felt like I had things together. My makeup was on, the diaper bad was packed. Wet wipes three diapers in two different sizes, enough snacks for a month away from civilization, water for elephants (that’s what I call my children when they drink water) a change of clothes for three people( myself included). When my son fell out of the stroller and I ran over him.
Or when…. I should stop shouldn’t I??
Being a mom is hard, but God’s grace is new every morning and throughout the changing season of my life and my children’s life His love has been and will be constant and unwavering, when my children fall down and I fall short God is there to pick us all up and start again. Because Ephesians 2:8-9 8For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God- 9not by works, so that no one can boast.
So let’s celebrate all the work, all the tears, and all the prayers from all the amazing moms, including ourselves.