Moms are incredibly hard on themselves. My daughter is extremely picky. By the end of the meal I either feel guilty because I forced my child to gag through eating that meat. Or I feel guilty because I let her get away with not eating meat and now she's not going to be healthy.
Motherhood began for me by adopting the most amazing baby girl. In the hospital her birth mom was better at swaddling her than I was...and so it began. That self doubt that all mothers feel. I thought it would go away when we left the hospital. Or when we got settled at home. But oddly now I think that it's just what motherhood does.
I had postpartum depression when my son was born. There are about two months of his life that I have very little recollection of. He doesn't remember this at all. But I still beat myself up over it all the time. And even now, when I know that both my children would pick me over any other mom in a heart beat, I look at other new moms and I wonder why I couldn't have been like them.
I have an incredibly crazy job (which I love). Often other moms will tell me that they don't know how I do it. Some are impressed with my ability to manage all this. But others are just judging. I once read a post on Facebook about moms who bring their cell phones to their kids' activities. And about how terrible they are. I think this whole judgment thing needs to go. Don't you think I'm hard enough on myself? And besides I'm actually able to make it to all of my kids' events cell phone in tow while you are off sitting in an office somewhere in your 9-5 job. That is unless I'm traveling. Then I miss everything. But I only travel once a month...right?!? My husband says it's more.
And so it continues. Best mom bakes with kids. Worst mom has no imagination and is terrible at playing barbies. Best mom travels with her kids. Worst mom takes them out of school for a week and needs to check her priorities.
How about we all make a New Year's resolution to stopping judging? If we can say that a kid is loved and well taken care of, maybe it doesn't matter that they came to school with jam on their face...again. Maybe it's okay we forgot to do our homework this one time. Or to not comb her hair just this once...again.
My New Year's resolution is going to be to forgive myself. For the postpartum depression. For forgetting the mitts yesterday. For yelling in the car. And instead concentrate on the cuddles we shared this morning. And the movie we are going to watch together tonight.
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