Good Enough

When I became a parent, I didn’t have the time to consult a rule book. When I did, I waded into the waters of internet misinformation and mostly found ways to blame myself. Everything and anything that went wrong with my kids, down to their intolerance for dairy, was “my” fault. There wasn’t a day that passed without a guilty thought. I wonder what it’s like to walk through life with minimal interruption from your conscience. Now that my kids can talk, one in particular has found ways to weaponize my weakness for self-blame and I fall for it nearly every time. Today, however, I just wasn’t having it.

Five years ago, when things busted apart, I prayed for a magic wand. I wanted to wave away all the sloppy imperfections and get to a supermom status. The more I saw others handling life so well, the worse I felt. I was the one, of course, that forgot sign up deadlines for things or dropped the ball on yet another project or duty. I messed up, a lot, and relied on the kindness of others to remind me of things like deadlines, a lot. I still do. I wanted a fix, something that would make all the difficult go away. I got overwhelmed and frequently, once falling on the floor in the middle of all the clothes I needed to fold and pack for one of their every other weekends and just sobbed. Managing everything sucked.

There is no pretty bow I can tie this all up with, no way for me to tell you that it gets “easier”. It doesn’t get easier but the hard stuff changes and softens over time and you adjust to the new normal of living a life with decreasing doubt and self-blame and increasing faith in your ability to do all the hard stuff, including the laundry. The kids will always find ways to bring you down to your knees. Before you beg their forgiveness, stop a minute and remind yourself of the last good thing you did for someone. Did you make someone a sandwich today? Do a load of laundry? Scrub the toilet? Yes, you’ve done quite a bit of good, haven’t you? Now, drop the guilt right there on the floor and go watch a show with your feet up.

Today I asked my daughter if she could start keeping track of the many things I do right rather than tell me all the things I do wrong. I had had it and was tired of feeling crappy about myself. I would be the first to tell you of my many flaws but one of them isn’t keeping track of how people have slighted or angered me; I don’t want my kids to be like that either. I forget a lot, forgive more. Peace and forward motion is delivered to those willing to accept the many flaws of the humans in their lives. Mom isn’t perfect, I’m not perfect, my kids aren’t perfect, and neither are you. “What’s for dinner?” two kids have asked me after we just got home from a graduation party where there was plenty of food. “Whatever’s in the fridge.” I told them, refusing to get up. Instead, I sit here and write this. Five boys slept over last night, I could hear what sounded like a fight club around 2 am. Yes, I’ve done enough these past couple days and decades. I’ll keep working on myself as we all should. For now, this minute right here, I think I will rest knowing I’ve done good today and that is good enough.