Motherhood. You're a tricky one, for sure. Madeline turns eighteen-months next week; and in those months I've learned a lot. So, so much. And most days, I feel like I've gotten pretty good at this job. But I've also learned that there will be days when I feel like I've learned nothing at all. And I'll feel like I've failed. And objectively, on those days, I might have; at certain things. But I'm OK with these tiny "failures." Because they come with the territory. And if you look at the scheme of things, they're not really failures at all, but are just part of the ride; and the beauty outweighs the ugly. By a mile.
Here are five Mom Fails I'm guilty of this week. And that I'll likely be guilty of again. And I'm totally OK with:
NAPTIME
Oh sweet, precious nap time. Where have you gone? Yours is the kind of love I wish I had never known now that you don't come around anymore. I could write love songs about the days filled with three hour naps- during which I could take a shower, start a business, make a meal for myself and even cram in some Bravo before it was all over. But in this past week my Madeline has fought me on it. Hard. This week, instead of napping she clawed her way through her sleepiness. Rubbing her eyes, fussing a bunch, giving me all her most tired signs- but refusing to succumb to sleep. Yes, this week I failed at nap time. As I have before. And likely will again. But the good thing I've learned about tough times in motherhood, is that this too shall pass. My little sleep striker will, in fact, nap again. And someday so will I. But until then, there's all the coffee.
TINY TOTS + SWIM CLASS + PLAY DATES, NO MY
No, that's not a typo. NO My.
Tiny tots? Ironically, we slept through that, yet again. Because this girl of mine that won't nap will only nap in the car these days. On the way to her gym class. Each. And. Every. Time. And swim class? No dice. A runny nose kept us on dry land. A play date? To be fair, I never scheduled one. But I'm confident if I had, that would have been missed too. Because life gets crazy, even with just one toddler; and this week it made me fail at getting her to all the activities I overzealously signed her up for. And I have to remind the Type A personality in me that she's just one years old; and she'll be just fine. She'll grow up and graduate high school; she'll move out someday, and become an upstanding member of society. Even if she misses a gym class, or seven.
WHERE'D ALL THE FOOD GO?
How I managed to birth a picky eater I will never know. In my pre-Madeline life, I recall watching Louis CK's standup about parenting, as he joked about trying to force his daughter to eat. As she refused, he would beg and plead with her; stressing the fact that if she didn't eat, she would LITERALLY STARVE. I was pregnant, polishing off all the carbs, and laughed while thinking to myself- not my kid. And then came Madeline. The pickiest eater I ever did see. And this particular week, I had to chase her around the kitchen with a spoon of yogurt- feeding her in between her rampant toddler steps. Because, for some reason, she's not that into meals. She likes bites- of avocado here, a few peas there; a bite of chicken, a bite of Mac 'n Cheese; and maybe a bite of a cookie. She takes bites, but then no more- the remnants of food groups split between the garbage or our dog. Who's looking a little hefty these day. So, yes, I failed this week. I failed at not wasting all the food in our house. But I succeeded in feeding that picky little eater- all her little bites of the buffet of fruits and veggies and proteins I prepared for her adding up to at least three meals throughout the day. So, as it goes in motherhood: you win some, you lose some. And a full belly is more important than a little bit of wasted banana. They go bad quickly, anyways.
MORGAN WHO?
They say that in case of emergency, us grown-ups are supposed to put our oxygen masks on first; a phrase that has resonated with me since my daughter was born. I write a lot about this notion- the importance of taking care of ourselves as moms. And I so truly mean it. Because how can we take care of a tiny human when we aren't running on a full tank? But sometimes, it's hard to practice what you preach. No matter how much you believe in it. And in the last fews weeks, between the holidays and busy schedules; between laundry and grocery shopping and baking and cooking; between fertility treatments and trying to grow a business; I forgot to take care of myself. And while my daughter gets her bath every single night, there were days that my hair {admittedly} went unwashed.
But weeks are long, and during this particular one I also managed to turn this ship around. So I hired a sitter. I worked out. I washed my hair. I even used my aromatherapy heating pad and made myself a nice cup of tea before bed. The effects of which paralleled a week away at Canyon Ranch. So yes, I've been failing at taking care of myself. But it's a quick fix, that doesn't take much. And luckily, when it comes to us moms, our tanks can run on empty for a while; and they fill up pretty darn fast.
MOM GUILT
Am I on the phone too much? Is she watching too much TV? Is she in enough activities? Have I played enough with her today? Do I really need to hire a sitter just so I can work out?
These are the thoughts that filled my mind this week. Because this week, I had a bad case of mom guilt. This week, I let these questions get all up in my brain. And out of all of these things I "failed" at this week: not being able to ignore these doubts is the worst offense. Sure, it's natural to have these thoughts from time to time; but I vowed to be as to kind to myself as I am to other moms on this crazy ride. And I can't be the best version of Madeline's mom I can be when I'm picking myself apart. So yes, I let my mom guilt get the best of me; and it made me question something that I know to be very true: that I'm a great mom. Not a perfect mom. Not even close. But the kind that cares enough to think about what kind of mom she is. The kind that loves her daughter more than anything; and will always put her first. The kind of mom that makes mistakes; the kind that is a work in progress. The kind that is learning; and getting better at the job every day. No matter how many Mom Fails she commits. And the kind that is patient- not only with her little ones, but with herself, too.
Follow Morgan’s daily journey through motherhood at www.liliesandlambs.com