Wonder Mom Vs. Fallible Mom

One of the many thing(s) I struggle with as a mom is how much of 'me' I allow my children to see.

I want my children to know I'm fallible.  I have faults, I make mistakes, there are times I need to apologize--my poor self esteem will allow this list to continue if I don't cut myself off here.  How else will my children know it's okay to have faults if they don't know their mom does?  How else will they learn to apologize, or recover from mistakes, if they don't see me setting the example--and most importantly, apologizing to them?  How will they know it's okay to not be perfect if they don't see my own imperfections?  How will they know to accept these things from others with grace and mercy if I don't accept mistakes and faults from my children with grace and mercy?

Here's the rub.

I read about these Wonder Moms who hide things from their children.  Illnesses.  Depression.  Regular, run-of-the-mill sadness.  Poverty.  Their children brag on their sainthood.  I'm in awe of them, but my sarcastic, cynical side also kind of rolls her eyes a bit, sorry.

"I never knew my mom suffered so much."
"I never knew we were poor."
"I never knew my father was so awful to her before and after the divorce."  Okay, this one I'm going to let go.  This shows amazing character.
"My mom hid her illness from us to the very end."
"My mom was so strong all of the time!"  Spoiler alert:  She was faking it.
"I was such a brat and my mom was such a saint!"  Again,  faking it.

The list goes on.

I'm curious if these kids ever feel lied to.  If they feel they missed the chance to support their moms, or to learn how to support others.  Are they given a false impression of people or of how the world works?

So, exactly just how much of my fallibility do I hide from my children?  It's something I really wrestle with.

Along with being imperfect, my kids need to know I'm also strong and brave, right?  I should be calm.  They should know they can count on me for their every need, and anything else thrown in there.  They should know I'm not going to fall apart every other day.  They should see me handle things as a Proverbs 31 woman would.  Maybe I should be more saint-like (or at least fake it).  They should know their mom is MOM--fully in control at all times (or at least pretending to be).

And yet....

I'm seldom in control.  I seldom feel in control.  I seldom look in control.  I seldom even fake being in control.  I'm not a calm person.  When we were poor, Noah knew it.  Even now, there are many expenses we tell the boys we're holding off until payday (credit cards are for emergency purposes only, kiddos! And yes, boys, Young Living is absolutely an emergency expense, so do not second guess Mama, okay? Okay!).  My kids are fully aware of my illnesses, Noah more so about the severity than his brothers, but they know there are days that Mama just can't mom.  No hiding that here when Mama can't walk or her arm doesn't cooperate or when she's taking medicine every day, three and four times a day.  Do we sugarcoat some things for the littles?  Yes, we absolutely do.  I'm also a crier. Dear Lord am I crier!  Sorry folks--happy, sad, just plain emotional, worship in church, worship in the car, movies, songs, memories, whatever, those tears are coming out.  Sometimes they are coming out in a torrent, sometimes just a tear or two.  I've also always been open with my children about my depression and mental health issues, on an age-by-age, relevant basis.  Again, Noah knows more about my history than the littles.  I have regular (weekly--okay, okay--daily) breakdowns.  For the record, my kids typically have daily ones. *wink*  I am so far from being anywhere close to being a saint, I don't think I would even be allowed to sit in the same church as one.  No Proverbs 31 pretending here!

I wish I had the answer to my above question.  I'm by no means a Wonder Mom.  I don't know that I want to be her.  Seems like a lot of pressure.  If you can't tell, I don't do well under pressure.  But I still worry and wonder that I'm coming up short for my kids by not being more like her.  One of the things I sort of pride myself on is being transparent, but perhaps with my children, I should be less so.   My kids probably see a lot more than I should allow them to.  Perhaps I should be less of who I am, at least in front of them, for them.  I certainly fall more on the side of Fallible Mom.  There are times I'm sort of proud of that (hey, lower standards for my kids to have to live up to, right?), and times there's a lot of guilt that comes with it (I should aspire to be more for my kids). I don't ever want my children to have the false impression they have to be perfect in this world.  I want them to be true to themselves, and true to how God made them.  Unless they're being jerks.  Don't do that.

This is how God made me--imperfect and flawed. This is also how God made my kids.

There's only been one perfect human in this world.  While I was made in our shared Father's image, I don't think being perfect like him is something I need to strive for.  Being like him, following in his footsteps?  Yes.  But even he admits I will falter.  And he accepts that with grace and mercy.  Every single day.

My Life as Translator

I saw this on an autism social media site: "The Maori word for autism is "Takiwatanga." It means "In his/her own time and space."" 

It made me think of a recent incident with Ezra; we were at an event where he became sensory overloaded, and actively sought out his own time and space.

My Sweet Little Trash Panda

We were in a large room, and he was overwhelmed by the noise, echoes, light, the storm outside, the space inside, and anything else I wasn't able to pinpoint.  He found the only place available--a closet/bin decoratively designed to hide a trash can--and hid in there.  I knew immediately what was going on, but was in a race against time to translate Ezra to the others in the room.

When Ezra did explained himself, he used his words (yay!), but poorly chosen ones.  We'll work on that.  

I was on my to intervening, to translating my child to the rest of the world.  He was not being naughty or getting into trouble by hiding.  He was not playing a game.  He just merely needed to be alone.  He was in a self-imposed time out.  The best way to handle it?  To leave him be.  To let him come out in his own time.

As I continue to translate my kids to the world, that's all they need:  To be left as themselves; they aren't getting into trouble.  They don't need your intervention.  They will come out in their own time.  They will find their own space.  They will grow at their own pace.

And that's okay.

My Kids Didn't Go Back To School Today

Our county and the next county over are going back to school this week.

My kids aren't joining them.  


While I haven't quite adjusted, it is a huge relief to me.

What may seem a rite of passage for many, will not be for mine this year.

We made the decision to homeschool our kids this year, including Noah's senior year (his decision), and Ezra's first preschool year.

Looking at many of the back to school postings on social media, I've felt relief whoosh through me.

Relief that my children were not joining the herds of kids on the buses, jamming the hallways, and getting lost in the crowds.

Relief that it will be me, and the other chosen parents in our co-op, nurturing my children.

Relief that it will not be my children with their multiple differences, and me, fighting my way through the administration and teachers, for the better educations they deserve.

Relief that my children won't be taught only to state tests, but are free to learn within their desires, take family field trips that will interest them and free to learn how they learn.

Relief that they will be challenged as necessary, as well as able to go at their own pace as necessary, rather than having to play catch up, or sit bored in a classroom.

Relief that God will not only be allowed into their classrooms and schoolwork, but fully integrated, rather than having the door firmly shut in His face.

Relief to not have to attend all the back to school programs,  filling out all the forms for each child in triplicate, requesting the 504/IEP meetings, and so on....

My relief goes on.  My shoulders aren't tense this year.  I don't have the I'm feeding my children to the wolves apprehension I normally feel this time of year.  The here we go again feeling.

I'm not even tense about joining a co-op, where I only know one person.  Avery could not be more excited for this new adventure, and I'm praying it is at least one of the answers we've been looking for with him.  The original plan last year was to send him back to public school this year, but when we received his final third grade test results, we couldn't argue: We'd finally found something that worked.  This is my chance to really settle in with him and concentrate on everything he's needed the past few years in school that he hasn't been getting.  We recently met for an eval with a speech pathologist, and she reinforced the homeschooling approach (I reserved the urge to leap across the table and hug her, instead bursting into tears and thanking her). She gave me so many resources to use with him, and agreed that everything I've been arguing with the schools being problems over the last 4 years, are real, genuine problems--and I now have the power to help my child!  Avery will finally have the freedom to be himself, to be who he is meant to be.

Noah is attending an online private school (let's face it, he's smarter than I am), and will be using materials I supplement.  After last year, when I realized during the last week of school in May I should have pulled him in December when I pulled Avery, if not sooner, this is a huge relief for all of us.  Public school was slowly killing him.  He begged us to bring him home, and not send him back.  An incredibly smart kid, his grades reflected the depression he'd sunk into.  As his mom, it killed me that I didn't see it sooner.  I'm grateful to have Noah home this last year, where I can love on him, nurture him, pray on him and just be with him.  It's what I've wanted and prayed for.  Our relationship has gotten off track for so many reasons, and I just wanted my Noah back.  This is my chance before he leaves my nest.

Ezra is excited to be going to school at all!  It's something he's never experienced, but always watched his brothers go off to.  He's got a new backpack and a new lunchbox, so he's all set, and that's all he cares about!

This is our year.  I know it will come with its own problems and it won't be easy.  But this is the course we've chosen, and we're going to make the best of it.

Yeahhhhhh, They're Kind of Memorable Like That

We went to the mall today.

As I walked into one store pushing one hooligan in front of me, the other two dragging their feet behind me, moaning and groaning, the young store clerk cheerily greeted me.

"It's so great to see you again!"

It's a big mall.  It's a huge city.  It's been months since I've been there.  There's no way she could possibly remember me.  I'm sure she says that to all of her customers.

Later, while I shopped, she remarked that it had been a while since I had been in.

Whaaatt?  She really did remember me.  Oh my gosh.  Well, it is quite possible her commissions from my sales have made her car payments, or perhaps a semester or two of school.  Perhaps that's why it was great to see me again?

While I paid, I told her I had to really give her credit for remembering me. That is excellent customer service!  I was truly impressed!

As my toddler scream-whined in his stroller, my 9 year old whined, and my teenager rolled his eyes in boredom, she commented that it was actually my kids, particularly my youngest, who really helped her remember.  She said it's been fun watching him grow, and she can't believe how big he's gotten.

The sweet girl was trying to cover up her blunder, and I felt awful for her.

I laughed.  I laughed hard--not at her or her blunder, but at my kids. It was all I could do.  I heard the customer behind me chuckle.  I caught the guy to my right try to cover up his laugh.  Fortunately, we all also had the salesclerk laughing with us, realizing she had not in the least insulted me.  I reassured her I understood what she meant.  I knew she meant well.  Because well, yeah, my kids are kind of memorable.  Whether we mean to or not, we wind up making an impression pretty much every where we go.  Whether that's good or bad, I haven't quite figured out yet, but yeah, we're all kinds of memorable.

The Words I Needed to Hear

As I've written so many times before, it's my heart to support other moms.  It is my heart's desire for moms to know they aren't alone in 'this.'   We've got to be in this together, without judgment of each other.  We must stand together, rather than ripping each other to shreds.  Otherwise it just kind of falls apart and looks awful.  Things get nasty, moms turn inward, help isn't sought, people get lost in the shuffle.  Would you reach out in a world that has done nothing but shame you? 

I've been subjected to my fair share of "mommy shaming" recently and I'll tell you--it cuts deep.  It haunts me.  I hear those words in my sleep, I see the finger wagging in my face when I zone off while watching tv, I feel the shame crawling on my skin when I wash in the shower.  Even as I have lectured myself about it being their problem, their own hurts and hang-ups that caused them to react to me this way, and so on, I'm the one with the broken heart.  

Short of her committing criminal acts against her child, I would never do this to another mom.

Yesterday we were in a store when a preschooler had a temper tantrum from hell--she wanted something, and Mom said no.  Avery started to stare; I kicked his foot and whispered, "That's been us more than once.  Don't stare and make it worse for them," then I steered my littles to the other side of the section of the store we were all in.  That mom was a ROCK. STAR.  She had the preschooler, a toddler in a stroller, and a newborn strapped to her chest.  She was amazing, just flat out incredible. When it was finally all said and done, as they walked past me (y'all, she even had her preschooler cheerily putting back the items that started the tantrum--I nearly signed up for mom lessons!), I tapped her shoulder and whispered, "You are a phenomenal mom.  You handled that so very well."  She laughed nervously and whispered back that she's just trying to figure it all out.  I reassured her that indeed, we all are.  Reminder to self:  Reorder "Mother Like No One is Judging" pins.  I didn't have one for her!

Then it was my 'turn' yesterday evening.

We had a long day yesterday, and it was showing.  Our last stop was the grocery store for prescriptions and a few things.  One of my children was amped. up. beyond. belief.  While we were in the self check-out, I had to handle a discipline issue (well, I had been handling it throughout the store...).  A few moments later, there was a tap on my shoulder.  You have to know I am automatically in defense mode now, prepared for someone and anyone and everyone to attack me and my children.  That said, my first exhausted thought as I turned around was to snap, "WHAT" at the person.  Relief flooded through me when I saw it was the cashier on self-checkout duty, and she was hiding stickers in her hand and smiling (she's one of the cashiers I love there--she always has special stickers at her station for the kids, and conversation for everyone).  She whispered, "You handled that really well, I just want you to know that.  And I agree with you needing to handle it, but can he still have a sticker, though?"  I said yes, and she handed stickers to my littles.

Those words--they were a balm to my hurting, tender soul.  As we finished up, I thanked her again.  When we reached the doors, I handed everything to Noah, telling him I would catch up.  I ran back to the cashier and gave her a huge hug, holding in tears.  I tried to explain why, and explain my heart for other moms, and blubbered through my idiotic self.  She just smiled, hugging me back and telling me I did everything right (and "shame on those people!").

I'm so grateful for people like her.  There have been a few angels in our lives lately (look for upcoming blogs!),  just people God has placed here and there to make up for the jerks who show up uninvited.

Dear readers--I'm begging you, please encourage each other.  This is so very important.  Please be that person who makes up for the uninvited jerks.  Encourage that complete stranger, and your closest friend.  Be the friend you need, and the parent you needed.  Say the words you need to hear, and perform the acts of love you need.  Be that fierce hug, and be prepared to give that hug.  Listen without speaking.  Throw out a random compliment next time you hold the door open for someone, leave a kind note on someone's windshield, or pay for the person behind you in line.  Make a meal for that mom down the street, or leave a love basket at her door.  Send flowers to your best friend at her office, or a police department or fire department who just had a tough call (they really like food deliveries, too).

Be the person you need.

Be the balm for someone's hurting, tender soul. 

World's Okayest Mom (and I'm Okay With It)

I've been wrestling with something that happened to us on Friday, and it hit me:  I was mom-shamed. More pointedly, my toddler was child-shamed.  The woman who intruded in our lives had no other purpose than to shame Ezra for her perception of his behavior, and her perception of my inaction about it.  She had no other purpose than to want to make me carry her own personal baggage.

And you know what?

I've been toting that heavy suitcase of hers for her ever since.

I let her get away with exactly what she wanted, and I bet she didn't even give us a second thought after leaving the store.  I have cried, sobbed, apologized to my children, lost sleep, screamed, shaken my fist at the unfairness of it, and written a novel's worth of unpublished blogs about it.

ME!  The mother who stands up for other moms!  The mom who would've commandeered the store's microphone to tell her exactly what she could do with her shaming if I caught her doing that to another mom instead of me!  More importantly, I would have helped that other mother protect her child.  "Hey, whoa, you can't just do that!  What in the world do you think you're doing, crazy lady?"

I know much of it comes from guilt in the way I handled it:  She accosted my child, while he sat in the cart right there next to me, instead of me.  I have a lot of guilt for not protecting my child, for not protecting the next child she will presumably approach because she got away with it this time, and not protecting the children she claimed to have experience working with.  A person who is so bold as to approach a three year old in this manner should not be working with children.  I was so stunned by her behavior that I didn't react the way I wanted to in hindsight.

I've written, re-written, and re-re-written my blog post since Friday night.  Much of it was just me needing to work through what happened.  I've talked with friends, cried with Shawn, listened to an amazing, heartfelt message from our pastor's wife, who also also happens to be our church's connections group pastor, on why being part of church family is so important (hey, that's a plug for my mom's group, if you're not paying attention!), and I heard an excerpt from Truth Bomb Mom on dealing with haters: Just don't do it.

So yeah, I'm only an okay mom.  My kids are only okay kids.  And you know what?  I'm okay with that.  We aren't everyone's cup of tea.  We don't have to be.  And I'm okay with that, too.

And you know what else?  That hater can take her baggage and pack off to Timbuktu.

Navigating My Way Through Teen Dating

The teenager in our house began dating a little while back, and it's been an, um, experience for me to figure out just where I fit in (right between them, right?), exactly, in all of this.

Some might say I don't figure into any of this at all.  It's his life, let him live it.

Sometimes it's hard for me to let the apron strings loosen, especially with my firstborn (okay, with all of my borns).  There is so much between us, I know letting go is going to be so damn hard.  It is so damn hard to let go already.  It's not about another woman taking my place, it's about making sure he takes proper care of her when she does.  I want to make sure he's getting who he deserves, but I also want to make sure she's getting who she deserves, you know?  I want to make sure my son's girlfriend(s), and my future daughter in law are treated with the respect, love and everything else they deserve.  I also want the same for my son.  Okay, yes, I've been known to crash a FaceTime or two ("Hi! HI! HI! I'm Noah's MOM!"), or send Ezra in....  But, I want to meet these girls!  I want to know their intentions, I want to know about their home lives, their hopes for their futures, what makes them laugh, what do they like to learn--they are dating my son, these things are important to me (seriously, do people just not ask questions about each other anymore???)! And I want to have conversations with him about them!

Okay, and let's be honest, I'm always going to be that mom who goes flying out the door, shouting and laughing my greeting, grabbing everyone up in huge hugs, welcoming them home like prodigal children--so really, I'm just weeding out the girls who can't handle me, right!?!?! 

He's brought home several girls.  One openly declared I was overbearing, over-involved and controlling.  Wellll, I've got news honey, he's still a minor, so we're sort of a package deal.  Anyway.  When he broke up with another girl, I asked if I had to break up with her too.  I really like her.  She got our odd family humor and fit in well.  When we broke out our weird, she broke hers out too.  I'm glad we're still friends on social media and we occasionally still talk.  Ezra is still dating Noah's first girlfriend.  She promised me she'll wait until he turns 18.  Shhhh.  Now there's a new girl, one we haven't met yet.  They talk a lot, they've been on a date.  We know nearly nothing about her.

Dating is a lot different than it used to be.  I think it's a little scarier than it used to be too, and not just for us parents.  Now there's FaceTime, all kinds of chats and other ways to meet.  Shawn and I dated in the Stone Age, so we saw each other at school, went for dates on Friday nights when we could borrow the family dinosaur, and we talked with conch shell phones when we weren't spending time with each other.  We didn't have the internet until college (dial up!), and it certainly wasn't Facebook or anything like that (email and AOL messaging!).  Now, our son can date a girl from another high school in a different county, and they're still just as close as if they're in the same school.  And FaceTime--hello.  The house rule is no girls in the bedroom or behind closed doors.  Welllll, thanks to FaceTime, isn't that pretty much having a girl in your bedroom/behind closed doors?  Yeah, thanks for that parenting battle, Apple.  There are so many apps and ways to hide things from parents if your child doesn't want you seeing them.

There are other things that make dating different, too.  Sexuality and gender are certainly more different than they were 25 years ago when I was my son's age.  Sex-ed is taught differently in public schools: Less education, more indoctrination.  I feel as though some parents are more lenient now, too. There are plenty of other differences, but naturally, I'm drawing a complete blank.  See the paragraph below!  

There are also more dangers now.  Sexting, social media, revenge texting, stalking, catfishing, and so on, make dating a scary thing to do.  Once what you've sent is out of your hands, you've lost control and ownership of it.  Nothing is private once it gets out on the internet.  If the wrong things get out, there will be severe, lifelong consequences.  And until you meet a person face to face, you never really know exactly who you are talking with on the internet. Teaching teenagers they are not invincible is near impossible.

We do our best.  We talk with him about equally yoked, and God's plans--those plans don't involve us saving anyone, or rescuing anyone or changing anyone.  That's up to Him.  God doesn't want us unequally paired in life, especially in the beginning of marriage, when we need each other perhaps the most.  I want Noah to be happy, to be with someone who is going to challenge him throughout life, help him continue to grow, make him laugh--be a true soulmate.  I always want the same for my daughter in law!  I try to talk to him about the things I observe about these girls--just things I see from my perspective, from my experience.  Shawn tries to talk to him about things from the man's perspective.  Our son cannot be objective, and while many would consider it to be difficult for us to be so, considering our son is involved, part of our job is to be objective in helping him.  This time in his life is for having fun, not for looking for a soulmate.  Shawn and I are an anomaly.  Not everyone marries their high school sweetheart.

I pray daily for my daughters in law.  I love them already, and I look forward to having amazing relationships with them.  There are so many pressures, so many different things that I don't necessarily understand, so I also pray for understanding, as well as wisdom and discernment for all of us.  I pray for caution, that it will be heeded at the proper times and moments--and not just for myself, but for my sons and their wives.

My place may not necessarily be right between Noah and his girlfriend, no matter how badly how I want to be there laying down the rules, but it is God's place.

This mama's prayer is they will let Him in.