This morning I am saved from this cycle of my own mind’s merciless musings by the blog of a friend who writes her own confessions about motherhood. She confesses to days of resistance, to the occasional shout, and to the endless exhaustion of it all. Though not without exalting the blessedness of motherhood, she relays in her words the same struggles I face. She alludes to that familiar uncertainty about which I write now. She reveals hints of her perceived shortcomings and in her words I hear myself. And in her words, I find inspiration. Let me clarify, for it is not the inspiration to parent better. After all, as my husband points out when I go on and on about these wicked thoughts of mine, our children are bursting with intelligence and confidence; they are loved and loving and this truth is the saving grace that propels me forward in my darkest moments of personal insecurity. I know we have great children and I know we are great parents. I am inspired by her admissions to quiet that dubious self-talk. I am moved to burn the effigy of perfection that haunts me. I am reinvigorated to reinvent that perfect vision of motherhood within my mind to embody the imperfections that unite us, that make us human, and that makes us each, in our own right, perfect mothers.
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Marnie, I so understand where you are coming from, as I, too, often 'see' other moms doing things better or just more often or with an ease and grace I think I lack. I applaud you for recognizing it in yourself and allowing yourself some breathing room and room for appreciation for all that you do well.
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