The thing is, we wonder all the time if we’re doing this motherhood thing right.
Every night once the kids are in bed I try to ignore the annoying voice in my head that screeches through the list of things I should have done better. Every night. I can’t seem to turn it off. Especially when I’m surrounded by the daily mount doom of school paper work, projects and permission forms.
I’ve talked to other moms about it and they tell me it’s normal. But it doesn’t make it any easier.
Some days it seems to me that motherhood is a series of getting things wrong and trying again. Every day. Forever. On repeat.
It’s a lesson in how utterly imperfect you are and how bad your temper can scare you.
It’s a never ending, vividly imagined list of all the ways you could possibly mess up a tiny human.
Some nights I lie in bed and it’s hard to breathe. I used to think newborn sleeplessness was the worst. But I’m graduating into elementary school panic and that age has awoken a host of new worries.
Because now they can remember how bad I messed up.
This thought terrifies me. I’m guessing some of you are living in that reality right now. The one where she’s in her room and you’re at the computer wishing you could get a take-back.
Do-overs and doughnuts seem to be the bread and butter of parenting.
But last year I heard a story that’s crawled under my ribcage and offered some hope.
I heard my favorite author of books about boys tell the story of a father who’d messed up. Messed up good and proper for years. Messed up more than just missing a few soccer games and home work assignments. He’d missed life. For years. Until his three girls were grown and were growing families of their own, reinventing the word.
They’d taken for granted the fact that he’d checked out of their lives.
And that’s when he decided to check back in.
When bridges, doors, and expectations had all been burned, that dad whose kids had outgrown him came back for another try.
Trying again is always awkward. It’s so uncomfortable to keep trying to find new ways to say I love you. And I’m sorry.
He called all three of his daughters and asked if he could come and visit them. They were surprised. A lot surprised. They wanted to know what kind of agenda he was expecting. And he said he just wanted to come and be part of their routine. To fit into the nooks and crannies of their lives so he could understand how they looked from the inside.
And the women were skeptical. But they opened their doors anyway and their dad, he showed up throughout the year, paying them each a visit. And true to his word he tagged along for everything. He was there for breakfast and car pool and pick up. He watched homework get done and games get squabbled over. He came to sports matches and helped make the macaroni.
He quieted himself so he could hear what was going on in the big, wide world of his daughters’ lives.
He was present.
He was interested.
And a parent like that is hard to resist; hard to write off.
This dad, he gives me hope because he should have been too late. But instead his girls, they were fascinated by how fascinating he found them.
And on the last night of their do-over weeks together he would take his daughters out to dinner. And over dessert he would ask them each a question.
He asked his grown up, no longer wearing pig-tails, raising-kids-themselves daughters,
“What do you dream?”
I was standing in the very back row of the over-crowded hotel conference room and you could have heard a pin drop as 200 moms let that question run around their heads.
In the midst of all our every day to-dos it’s rare to have someone ask about dreams that may have been lost in a thousand miles of car pool.
He wasn’t too late. It turns out that this dad arrived in time to remind his daughters of a time when they dreamed wild and free as only children can.
You’re not too late either.
No matter how hard you fought or slammed that door or disagreed or stormed out or said things you wish you could take back. No matter if you threw his math book across the room or if she declared you the worst mom, like, ever.
You’re only too late once you give up going back for another do-over.
You’re only too late if you stop trying again.
Too late isn’t too late until you walk out and don’t walk back in again.
You’re only too late if you’ve run out of tomorrows.
So tonight, I will set my alarm and get up ready for fresh donuts. Or Cheerios as the case may be.
And do-overs.
Definitely do-overs.
Lisa-Jo, I wished you lived closer to Ohio. You deserve a hug and a hot chocolate for that one!!
I agree Erin! I live in Ohio also!!!!
Lisa-Jo, This is just what I needed to hear this morning after an awful time getting my daughter dressed and out the door to school. I often fear that I have messed her up by my anger, but I apologize and try again tomorrow. Thank you for putting a voice to what so many of us feel everyday!
I think fretting over our parenting decisions is a sign of just how much we care about our children. We love them so much that we desperately want to get it RIGHT for them. But perfect parenting doesn’t exist, and every day brings new wisdom and insight into how best to go about being a mom. That’s why it’s never, never, never too late to try again.
Amen to that!
Oh, yes!! With my oldest just having turned 13, it seems that I’m always feeling my way along, wondering how I’m messing up, desperately wanting to do it “just right.” Thank God that His grace is there for both of us!!
This was exquisite, crawling inside of me as you described. The gift it gave me as a daughter was the grace to suspend the hurt of my own childhood, let go of the questioning, and give myself permission to accept the new waves of interest my dad has in me. So many years of wishing to now, today, tentatively opening the door.
I can’t yet articulate what this means to me as a mom, but I am ever so grateful.
I yelled my kids to bed last night instead of praying them to bed. And so, your words are a welcome balm for this tired mama this morning. Oh, how desperately I need God’s grace. So thankful that he offers us his perfection, his sufficiency in the midst of our inadequacy. I can so relate to the terror of knowing that they remember!!! And yet, I have been amazed at the things that they so easily forgive and forget. Grace!
Thankful for you!!!
Lisa-Jo, Thank you for the many ways you seek to encourage mothers. I have a 20 month old and I am terrified that I will not be very good at this. But I keep telling myself to try again and again. Like you said – “do overs”.
Thanks for sharing this reflection. It has helped me today to take a deep breath.
LOVE!!!
Love this! I’m laughing because just last week I felt like it was too late to correct something in my 8 year old. He’s only 8 is the funny part. You are a precious encourager my friend.
Thank you for writing and sharing this. It’s beautiful. And true!
I know how those voices can torment…they told me every night …failure…not enough…I always felt I got more wrong than right…I was my worse critic…as my children grew older…they helped me…I was much harder on myself than they were on me…I was always afraid they would tire of my failings and asking for forgiveness…over and over again…but now I now those moments are what kept me connected to their hearts…go back…go back…God grew us up together…and they see me and have always seen me much kinder than I saw myself.
One more aspect of parenting…we put so much pressure on ourselves…we really cross over lines and become a god to our children…because we think we are completely responsible for how they turn out…their salvation….their happiness…but one day as I was talking to my 4th child as he headed to college…those old voices came creeping in…you didn’t do enough in this area…or that area…and as the panic feels wanted to push me in a conversation to fix all I missed in one fell swoop …God whispered…I have GRACE for the gaps…this was transformative for me…because no matter the age of your kids…toddlers or married with children…the same ugly voice wants to whisper…you are responsible for this or that aspect in their life…but now…I can see these places as a need for greater grace…and I know He’s got the grace…truth and love to bring them through.
So glad this Dad found his way back…but if we will daily find our way back to our children’s heart…this love covers a multitude.
love how you encourage young Momma’s…my daughter being one of them :)
This is so good, Lisa Jo. Thank you for not being afraid to speak the fears we’re all thinking. I just finished Jen Hatmaker’s book 7, and the section on prayer talked about the bedtime prayer being a time of reflecting on what went well that day, and giving God the things that didn’t go as well. I love that idea of letting God clean my slate before the next morning. :)
Oh my goodness, YES! I have much older daughters who are making their own choices now, and I still wonder if I’ve done everything I could have, told them everything I should have, taught them everything they need to know about life “out there.” I’m so thankful for grace in these times. It’s by God’s grace that I have had anything positive come out of my mothering, and it’s the grace of my children to forgive those bad days that makes me get out of bed and try it again.
One thing I learned from my father–say you’re sorry to your kids. A couple of times (not many, really) when I was growing up, my dad lost his temper and said things he shouldn’t have said. He always apologized when he knew he was wrong. Those apologies and that humility said more to me than any lesson he could have taught me.
This post brought me to tears. I have been feeling like I’m messing up my boys a lot lately. With the stress of the day and the tiredness that comes with it I feel like my kids have gotten the worst part of me by the end of the day. I am thankful for new days and do overs, so thank you for this!
Oh, how I often feel it’s too late to fix things. I miss the days of elementary with my first-born, a girl who is way too similar to her momma. Being single, trying desperate to raise these babes, who aren’t babes any longer, of whom one is a male child and a momma, alone, feels so ill-equipped to raise a man-child. This teen-thing, a world of cell phone boundaries, cyber-space safety, of only 5 years until she flies from this nest, this is when I wish I could push the re-start button and have her round-cheeked, always smiling, believing momma always knows best back the way it used to be. My Father, the Father, knows my failings, short-comings, and He sends you, Lisa-Jo, to remind me, I am not alone. Thank you!
Absolutely LOVE your words of encouragement. It helps so much knowing you aren’t the only mother feeling those feelings and thinking those thoughts. You are an inspiration to us all!
I really needed this – thank you for sharing!
Thank you – just – thank you. You don’t know how much I needed to hear this.
I have never had more opportunities to apologize than I do now that my kids are old enough to remember. Not only do they remember, but they’re old enough to call me out on my mistakes too. I understand the meaning of the word grace better than I ever have before, how to give it, and especially how to receive it. Here’s to hoping they remember the good too:)
The fear I’m messing up my children nearly paralyzes me every day. I eff up so often. And sometimes, sometimes I feel like there’s no coming back from it. But, then I snuggle them up and ask how their day went, what’s on their hearts, and nothing about, what I feel I messed up with, even comes up. It’s all happy childhood stuff they recount from their day. But even still, I still worry about my ability to parent these children well.
Nell
Yesterday, I heard the story of a mom who had a stroke at the age of 44. She was unable to continue being a mother to her teenage children. This was because she had to begin a new life living in long term care. She did not want to leave her children behind, but there are no provisions for allowing children to accompany moms into long term care homes.
So, her sons began their new life in foster care.
After hearing this story, I considered how fragile life can become and how everything you thought you ever wanted, like just being someone’s Mom can be crushed, severed and made irreparable and impossible by one simple incalculable event.
I wept for this Mom and for the Mom I might find myself becoming without choosing. From this story, I considered how lucky I am to be the available and capable, yet imperfect Mom I am for my three boys. And I forgot for one small moment, my own foibles, grief and indecisive actions as a mother to these boys and how this affects them. And I considered how lucky they are that they have me – imperfect mom – me.
As a almost empty nester who was beginning to believe the lie that I was done. That I couldn’t heal all the hurt I may have caused. But God has used your beautiful heart for encouragement to remind me that with God there is always more donuts and do overs. Thank you thank you thank you!
Are you reading my life? You are today. Thank you for these words. Thank God for do-overs. I needed to hear this today. In the midst of screaming toddlers, 9 empty half-gallon glass jars of cow’s milk my farmer husband just dropped off to wash, three piles of clothes waiting, sticky floors from a weeks (make that two weeks) worth of spills in my kitchen since the last mopping…Yes, I needed to hear this. I scream. I yell. I ask forgiveness. And then I do it again. Do-overs. Grace. I need it. I live in it. Daily. Bless you, Lisa-Jo. Bless you.
So. Good.
I think that covers it.
Tears streaming down my face. I threw her piano book down the stairs. Emotions ran high, frustration levels in the red zone piano practice wasn’t a time of sweet music but of bitter battles.
I couldn’t believe I had done that.
And I cried. And asked for forgiveness. And she ran to me, giving it freely.
And you know, I have never done it again. We take breaks, we practice throughout the day rather than all at once. We do anything we need to in order to not go to THAT place.
As I read this post and go to the part about the Math Book, I thought, “Thank you Lord that I am not alone.” because sometimes I feel like the most monstrous mother ever when what I really want is to be godly mother.
Wonderful!!!!
You’re only too late once you give up going back for another do-over.
You’re only too late if you stop trying again.
Too late isn’t too late until you walk out and don’t walk back in again.
You’re only too late if you’ve run out of tomorrows.
Wow! I love your writing, and everything you say. Really I want to say I love you, but that probably sounds weird. But I have to stop reading you before work, as then I go to work in tears every day. :)
Thank you for these words. I had just had a conversation with a friend about how I stay awake at night, regretting words said or “math books” thrown. Worrying that I require too much independence and yet that I don’t do enough for my kids. Worrying that everything I do is the wrong thing and my kids will end up as “atheists” (as one blog recently told me).
So many blogposts (and they are well-meaning) tell moms that every moment matters, every moment is important, every moment will make or break your kids. And then they tell us a messy house is ok, but another one give us 20 chores our preschoolers should be doing. That obedience is good, but if you are teaching it incorrectly, they are going to miss the point and become atheists.
So when you have “those” moments where you fail, you do feel as if the you are destroying your kids–that they will be in therapy before the age of 20.
So THANK you for your honesty. Thank you for putting into words exactly what I needed to hear. I read your words with tears in my eyes, but feeling somewhat better about the big picture.
today was one of those days. door slammed. words said. worst mother declared. all before 7am.
thank you for this, especially today. thank you thank you, thank you, for reminding me that we are all imperfect mothers and that it is never too late to start again.
I just know someone needed to hear that, Lisa-Jo. While I am very present in my son’s life, I often think about the things I messed up on. I don’t think he thinks I messed up, but I feel like I did/do. Thank you!
That is the game changer in motherhood – when one day they wake up from their nap remembering how they are angry at you because you did something they didn’t care for, whether it was good for them or not. I know if I think hard enough I can see in this how God loves us – that when we miss it he forgives and doesn’t see that sin because of Christ – and then when they grow up, trying to pull away into independence, to figure out what’s right and what’s wrong on their own, not having been in your shoes – they remember how in their eyes I missed it. I miss when they loved me with grace. I love your story – how blessed. My father only met 2 of my boys at age 56 in a nursing home when they were 1 and 3 – He never met my first born. He really wasn’t interested. How I would have loved to live out the story you told:)
THANK YOU! That was beautiful. You’ve made my cry – as always. How are you so good at reminding me … us.. all of us guilt ridden moms that we get another chance at doing it right every day anew? You’re really amazing.
Thank you. Just thank you.
You never cease to bring tears to my eyes. :) In a good way.
It’s amazing to me how God guides my life to hearing (or in this case reading) Just what my soul needed. Raising a child/teen is amazing and at times challenging. That thin line of wanting to be a trusted friend but yet being mom can be hard. Thank you for this.
A Cookie Before Dinner has you listed today as one of her top 10 blogs and I just found out why. This is one of the best posts about parenting I’ve ever read. It resonates. It’s relatable to every mom ever and, most importantly, it gives hope! Thank you.