I Simply Stopped
Once upon a time, not so very long ago I could have founded the "Moms Who Pale in Comparison To Other Moms Club."
I was that mom who looked at other moms, seemingly perfect moms, and wondered how in the world they did it all? How do they work full time, manage to look like perfection, keep their cool alllllll the time, find time to spend time with friends, have a fantastic love affair with their treadmill, maintain a clean house like nobody's business, send those cute personalized birthday cards and come up with the most sentimental gifts for others, find time to shop for themselves, never let their children have anything that was nutritionally displeasing, manage to rear children who actually liked to eat something besides mac-n-cheese and pizza, kept their toes and nails in sparkling tip top shape, and get 10 hours of sleep.
I.mean.really.
(thankfully my closest mom friends are NOT this way...no offense, lovelies. God knew I needed you "don't have it togethers" in my life!)
I don't know when it clicked with me, but one day it just did. Sometime in Will's third year of life, I realized that "she" didn't exist-that mom I had on a pedestal. She existed only in my imagined visualization of what she was, completely made up within the confines of my brain, which was ridden with mommy guilt for all the things I wasn't.
One day it was as if the Lord just said to me, "Stop." And so, I did.
I stopped believing in the mom that had it all together, and started noticing that she didn't.
I stopped believing her house was spotless and realized she probably cleans like a maniac shoving pans in the oven and stuffing the laundry room full of whatever fits before last minute company came over...just like I have done a time or two.
I stopped believing that she didn't lose her cool. She does. We all do.
I stopped envying her million dollar appearance and decided I preferred my messy pony tail and jeans that were much more suitable for wrestling, chasing and playing football.
I stopped blaming myself for having a picky eater. Forcing him to have eaten a full plate of food he hated when he was two wouldn't have made him like more foods. It's not my fault. I'm glad I didn't do that.
I just simply stopped. And something really cool happened...God began to show me all the things that I am. (Along with the help of my dear husband who has plenty of reasons to see the "ick" in me, yet never does. Rather, he teaches me to believe in myself. To see myself for who I am in Christ and who I am to our boys...when I look into his eyes and see the way he looks at me, it's as if I am looking at a reflection of a girl I didn't know existed, but he's determined to introduce me to-a beautiful, lovely, Christ filled, compassionate, caring, grace giving mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend)
And I believe it.
As moms, no matter how confident we are in our own mothering, we can slip into the tendency to play the comparing game, or even the judging game. I'm guilty of both. It's neither healthy, nor my place, to feel insecure for choosing to go on a trip and leave one child behind when another mom wouldn't dare do such a thing. It's equally not my place to have silent judgmental thoughts about how often a mom lets her children spend the night off on the weekends, a time I so diligently guard as family time in my own home.
I just simply stopped. I stood still for a minute, and then I saw me for who I am. Don't be mistaken, I didn't see it on my own. I looked to the One who knows me. The One who created me in His likeness. I stood still, I looked, and inside that girl I saw Jesus. And my was she lovely.
Her children arise and call her blessed;
There is no one size fits all method to parenting. And I think if we can all just grasp hold of that, let ourselves off the hook a little and be more encouraging to those who make choices we wouldn't make as a parent, we'd all be a little more free. Free to be you. Free to be me. Free to be blessed.
I was that mom who looked at other moms, seemingly perfect moms, and wondered how in the world they did it all? How do they work full time, manage to look like perfection, keep their cool alllllll the time, find time to spend time with friends, have a fantastic love affair with their treadmill, maintain a clean house like nobody's business, send those cute personalized birthday cards and come up with the most sentimental gifts for others, find time to shop for themselves, never let their children have anything that was nutritionally displeasing, manage to rear children who actually liked to eat something besides mac-n-cheese and pizza, kept their toes and nails in sparkling tip top shape, and get 10 hours of sleep.
I.mean.really.
(thankfully my closest mom friends are NOT this way...no offense, lovelies. God knew I needed you "don't have it togethers" in my life!)
I don't know when it clicked with me, but one day it just did. Sometime in Will's third year of life, I realized that "she" didn't exist-that mom I had on a pedestal. She existed only in my imagined visualization of what she was, completely made up within the confines of my brain, which was ridden with mommy guilt for all the things I wasn't.
One day it was as if the Lord just said to me, "Stop." And so, I did.
I stopped believing in the mom that had it all together, and started noticing that she didn't.
I stopped believing her house was spotless and realized she probably cleans like a maniac shoving pans in the oven and stuffing the laundry room full of whatever fits before last minute company came over...just like I have done a time or two.
I stopped believing that she didn't lose her cool. She does. We all do.
I stopped envying her million dollar appearance and decided I preferred my messy pony tail and jeans that were much more suitable for wrestling, chasing and playing football.
I stopped blaming myself for having a picky eater. Forcing him to have eaten a full plate of food he hated when he was two wouldn't have made him like more foods. It's not my fault. I'm glad I didn't do that.
I just simply stopped. And something really cool happened...God began to show me all the things that I am. (Along with the help of my dear husband who has plenty of reasons to see the "ick" in me, yet never does. Rather, he teaches me to believe in myself. To see myself for who I am in Christ and who I am to our boys...when I look into his eyes and see the way he looks at me, it's as if I am looking at a reflection of a girl I didn't know existed, but he's determined to introduce me to-a beautiful, lovely, Christ filled, compassionate, caring, grace giving mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend)
And I believe it.
As moms, no matter how confident we are in our own mothering, we can slip into the tendency to play the comparing game, or even the judging game. I'm guilty of both. It's neither healthy, nor my place, to feel insecure for choosing to go on a trip and leave one child behind when another mom wouldn't dare do such a thing. It's equally not my place to have silent judgmental thoughts about how often a mom lets her children spend the night off on the weekends, a time I so diligently guard as family time in my own home.
I just simply stopped. I stood still for a minute, and then I saw me for who I am. Don't be mistaken, I didn't see it on my own. I looked to the One who knows me. The One who created me in His likeness. I stood still, I looked, and inside that girl I saw Jesus. And my was she lovely.
Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
-Proverbs 31:28
There is no one size fits all method to parenting. And I think if we can all just grasp hold of that, let ourselves off the hook a little and be more encouraging to those who make choices we wouldn't make as a parent, we'd all be a little more free. Free to be you. Free to be me. Free to be blessed.
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