Do you remember what your mom served you for breakfast when you were little? Do you remember if she hand-made all the decorations for your 1st birthday or just went to McDonalds because it was easier? Do you remember how many times a week she cooked a home-made meal and how many times she heated up something in the microwave?
Some of us probably remember some of the details, but I think most us probably remember the time we spent with our mom. That’s what I remember most. I remember that my mom worked the night shift and would still somehow stay awake long enough to drive me to school sometimes. I remember that my mom made it to every band concert and football game (which was really a marching band show….seriously). I remember that she let me have sleep overs and help her bake cookies at Christmas time. I remember trips to Sonic, which for some reason were the magical trips that made my teenage self actually start talking to my mom about what was going on in my life. I remember her dancing and laughing (and snorting) with my friends, who thought she was the coolest, even though I was mortified. I remember worshipping Jesus next to mom on Sunday mornings. I remember hearing her sing praises all day long as she worked so tirelessly to provide for our family and keep the home a safe, loving environment.
I don’t remember how often the house was clean. I don’t remember my first birthday party. I don’t remember the lunches she packed for me for school (because we bought our lunch at that was ok!). I don’t remember my mom trying to be someone she wasn’t.
See, I have this problem with comparing myself to other moms. I find myself believing that if I am not the crafty mom, the homeschooling mom, the mom that wears make-up and high heels every day, then I’m not a good mom. I read a blog recently talking about this exact same thing. We moms somehow believe that if we aren’t like the other moms then we aren’t doing it right.
I am not doing my kids any favors by trying to be someone that I’m not. What I want to do is have my kids remember me as a mom who followed Jesus, taught them to follow Jesus, and had as much fun as I could along the way. There will be days of success and days of failure. None of us are the perfect mom. But, I hope that when my kids are 30 (ack! I’m almost 30!) they will remember me being a mom who loved her kids and did the chores when there was time.