05/12/2024
Happy Mother's Day to all the mamas of the world today!
In the grand tradition of mothers (and, often, conscientious parents of all genders), I am often riddled with self-doubt about whether or not I am a good parent. Near-simultaneously, my children manage to be all of these:
- amazing precious perfect gifts that I can never live up to
- expensive, time-consuming, infuriating hobbies that I can never quit
- the only bastion of hope I have for this broken world
- cracked funhouse mirrors that reflect every insecurity and fear that I have ever had, but distorted and multiplied tenfold
- warm hilarious delights whose quips and hugs and kisses explode my heart (and occasionally my tear ducts) every single day
In other words, they are my kids. And like most parents, I feel like I can never do enough for them. But then I look at all my friends and I think THEY are doing an amazing job. And then they tell me that they think THEY are doing a terrible job, but that they think *I* am doing an amazing job. I'm starting to think that none of us can accurately perceive how we are doing, and that the greatest gift we can offer each other is a loving reflection and celebration of how well we are doing an incredibly difficult job. (Thanks to all the fellow mamas and other amazing humans who have messaged me along those lines today, ILYSM and you are crushing it
This post was supposed to come out in time for Mother’s Day… but in an ironic twist, my two-year-old caught COVID at daycare and gave it to me, and it knocked me flat for a week. In the grand tradi…