Oftentimes, I find myself wondering about what kind of mother my kids will remember me to have been. Will they remember the one who worked and then stayed home and eventually went back to working, the one who ignored them from time to time, or will they remember the mom that always had the camera on and wrote it all in baby books, posting and documenting every moment of their lives, and never missing a single thing. What about the mom that cried at every milestone and school drop off? Or will they remember the mom that hurried them out of the door evidently unfazed by the meltdown?
I find myself wondering if I am two different mothers to them, like I am to myself.
If I am truthful, sometimes I feel like I am 20 different mothers, in my one body. I am patient, loving and kind. I can be creative but uninteresting at times. I am happy and dancing in the kitchen to "Who Let the Dogs Out" but also begging for my "me" time in the next.
Sometimes, I wonder if they will remember the tears that I had when it appeared to be for no reason at all. Sitting on the couch, or silently in the car, feeling empty and sad. My boys have always noticed, even when I have done everything to hide it, they come and give me hugs while I cry unsolicited, wallowing in my depression and feeling touched-out. I wonder if that is the version of me that leaves the lasting impact.
I wonder if they will remember the mom that yelled about the insanity that becomes our household or the one who quietly cleans up the spilled breakfast. Will they remember when I said "it's okay, mistakes happen- it's all good!" Or will they remember the rage that I sometimes feel over the "little things." (PPD can be a bitch, y'all).
I think when we first become mothers, we have this image of a "perfect" mother that we strive to achieve...
But then, we quickly realize that we aren't one dimensional, motherhood isn't one dimensional. We are still humans. We cry and yell, get frustrated and sleep, all the while raising tiny humans that are also trying to navigate their own emotions. We thought so naively that maybe we would never been annoyed with our children or frustrated about the endless messes. We would bake cookies in the kitchen and never once be mad about the eggs and flour all over the floor.
We envision a woman that fed all organic, and never raised her voice. A mother that was using positive parenting techniques all the time and never got frustrated by the "little things."
I guess we were all hoping that somehow, someway, we would become these perfect people, never quick to anger, cool tempered always...
But I have realized a very important truth, that it's okay to be human. It's okay to show that to our children.
Our children need to see us cry or yell, stand up for the injustices, sleep and be happy, dance and be sad. They need to see us working through our own emotions so that they know that they can work through theirs. That what they feel, go through, and encounter, is "normal." But damn, it can be bothersome, that I know that some of those negative memories will stick.
It can be so easy to torture ourselves with the thoughts of which memories they will have of me once I am gone.
Will they remember the times we played games and went to the park, and we snuggled on the couch watching their favorite movies? Or will they remember the mom that sometimes-put other things first and assigned chores at the end of a busy day? In a perfect world, I want them to remember all 20 types of moms that I am- because that's what makes me complex and human, that's what makes me, Mom.
I hope that they'll remember as much of all of me, as they can. I hope they remember the good times but also the sad- because the sad ones, made the happier ones, that much better. If they remember the depression and anxiety ridden version of me, I hope that they remember how I fought, daily, for them.
it is easy to plague ourselves thorough parenting and cause our own mom guilt.
But instead, I hope that they remember that mom was authentic. That mom always stuck to her values and lived life fully. I hope they remember my big heart that sometimes took things too seriously, but also took on the emotions of those around me. I hope they remember the home we made together, in the cul-da-sac, where we laughed, cried, made memories, and celebrated. Because that life, is a full one, where we lived and breathed, learned, and grew- together. Feeling all the emotions that this, one, beautiful life, has to offer!
Cheers!!
XO, Kelleen
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