Nobody Told Me it Would Be Like This

Being a parent makes you feel like a blanket that's always too small. No matter how hard you try to cover everyone, there's always someone who's freezing. -Fredrik Backman

I was innocently reading a novel by the pool when I came across the above quote. I read it again, then took a picture of it so I could ruminate on it later. How perfectly it encapsulates the journey of parenting. I never felt that I was doing it right. Every day was a series of feel-good moments followed swiftly by moments of, "I'm the worst mom on the planet".

I never really aspired to be a mother. It's not that I was against motherhood. It just wasn't on my to-do list. However, Jeff and I were about a year into our marriage when I got the “mom bug”. I blame it on my friends. They started having kids and made it look so easy. I thought it might be fun to have a little human. A couple of years later, our first bundle of joy arrived and I was completely smitten. One look into her little smushed up face and I was hooked. In fact, I was so hooked that I had 4 more bundles over the next 10 years. I was pretty good at the newborn and toddler phases. It was exhausting but eventually, you go into autopilot. Feed them, clean them, cuddle them, no big deal. When they started having personalities and opinions, things got real. How are you going to stand there in your Cinderella PJ's and tell me you don't want cereal for breakfast? You barely reach my hip bone, in fact, you barely qualify as a person!

Add to that the fact that all five of my female progeny were completely different and it's a recipe for self-esteem decimation. Every time I thought I had the mothering thing down, one of them would throw a curve-ball and I'd be back to novice status. Power struggles abounded about schoolwork (we, of course, decided that raising humans wasn't enough, we also chose to educate them ourselves), outfits, friends, BOYFRIENDS, extracurricular activity, and jobs. Everything in life became a potential argument. The years between 1994-2018 are basically a blur. I don't know if I blocked them out consciously or if my mind just kicked into survival mode.

It has always been a challenge; balancing the emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual health of a family. I felt as though my "blanket" was stretched and frayed beyond repair and yet, someone was always freezing. As soon as I had one child sorted, another skipped across my field of vision neck-deep in a situation that needed emergency attention.

And guess what? Spoiler alert! It doesn't change when they reach adulthood. If anything it gets more difficult because the challenges are bigger and the consequences more serious. You can no longer send them to their rooms or keep them away from harmful friends. As a mom, you are supposed to fix things. That's your purpose. Fix it, give it a kiss, and make it better. But suddenly, all you can do is worry....and pray...a lot. If you want to increase your prayer time, just wait until you have adult kids. I'm not kidding. I have spent more time in my prayer closet the past few years than I ever thought possible. Side note: kids, burn the prayer journals when I die. You may not like what you see. So. Many. Prayers.

To be honest, I love being a mom. I may not have always excelled at it, I may not have always enjoyed it but I would do it again a hundred times over. Every stage has its ups and downs but every stage is precious. You are a participant, with God, in the unique development of a human being, created in the likeness of God, but also having barely discernible traits they picked up from you. It's actually pretty cool and it is the hardest work you will ever do.

I love being a mom of adult kids. They are my best friends. They are loving, encouraging, and they make me laugh. They are actually turning out really well, despite my mistakes. I am learning that ultimately, they belong to God. I'm here to guide, love, listen, and pray. God's blanket is huge and no one is freezing.