There was a time when my children hung on my every word. Much of what I say is now greeted with an eye roll. Sometimes they act like they don’t hear me at all. This Mother’s Day I will remind her that despite all my imperfections and my ability to embarrass her, I always try my best.
How I’ve transformed myself from being an oracle to someone whose authority is being degraded at every turn is something I often wonder as my sons grow older. I dare say that every mother who has told her children not to believe everything they hear begins to regret her words when challenged daily.
It’s a fate that seems reserved only for mothers. While in my house her father’s opinion on a whole host of issues is still respected, mine is skewered. The only thing I seem to know anything about is ancient history – which my sons say I come from, who are now 10 and 13 years old.
I’m the biggest reason for her embarrassment. “Do you have to wear that?” will be asked as I grab what I consider to be a perfectly acceptable hat as I walk out the door.
There are also new rules as I am in the car outside of school.
Music shouldn’t be played loud for fear others might hear my uncool choices. In an ideal world, I would dress a little more conservatively, certainly would never try to show them my dance moves, and would absolutely not sign up for an event where they are with their friends.
My children’s embarrassments are nothing new, and mothers bear the brunt of it the heaviest. I can’t say exactly when my stories stopped being listened to with rapt attention, but I suppose it’s all part of letting go, which is what we do from the minute our children are born.
From the start I took mine to the beach.
When they were little, they loved to walk hand in hand with me, explore rock pools and climb dunes. But now the beach is where I feel most clearly how they move away from me.
Now they jump out of the car and disappear, skipping away through the beach grass, the dog chasing after them. When they reappear some time later, I wave and wonder how they got so big?
Last week I met a young mother walking her toddler, holding her little girl’s hand tightly as the child negotiated the uneven sand on legs that could not yet walk. I wondered if mine had ever been so small, so unsteady on their feet, so dependent on my helping hand?
At that moment, my two boys came into view and waved at me from their position as kings of the dunes, from where they catapult and jump.
I often have to cover my eyes when they tumble through the air. In that moment, as I waved back, I felt a sudden nostalgia for their little childhoods, if they would follow me like little ducks across the beach.
But that’s not how life goes; it only goes forward, and their movement away from me as the center of their universe is as natural as the ebb and flow.
In those moments of longing to go back in time, I wonder if I was good enough? Am I present enough?
When they were born and I looked into their eyes, I made a million promises. I’m sure one of them was that I would never scream. I have broken this promise and others many times.
I’m not sure if I became the mother I saw myself as back then. I don’t know if who I am is better or worse, but I do know that I was shaped by the power of loving my sons. Guilt goes hand in hand with modern motherhood. Never feeling good enough is part of the deal. And you often feel a snag at the edges of your consciousness that you could be better.
If there’s one gift that would be most welcome this Mother’s Day, it would be permission to make it easier for us to say, “You’re doing your best.” I’m far from a perfect mom. But I’m good enough, and that’s good enough for Mother’s Day and every day.
https://www.independent.ie/opinion/comment/as-a-mother-im-not-perfect-but-im-good-enough-and-thats-all-i-can-be-41488977.html As a mom I’m not perfect but I’m good enough and that’s all I can be
