During all the years that I have been a mother, there has always seemed to be some sort of standards for mothers from those in particular groups that I have hung out with. For example, in the past five years, I have observed the importance of these things:
1. What does your husband do/how much money does he earn?
2. Where does your children go to school/what preschool are they going to attend?
3. What type of diaper bag do you carry?
4. What brand of dress is your daughter wearing?
5. Do you have cool sippy cup labels?
6. Whose child is the prettiest/best behaved/smartest?
Yes, the list goes on and on. It just changes with the age of the kid(s) in question.
Once I got "out of the loop" and became different than other "mommies in the club" by going to work and school, it seems that I have changed in caring of what the other mom's thought of me.
For example, when Emma was one (!) I was asked at a playgroup by a group of mothers "where I had her on the list for preschool." Well, I had no list. I didn't know about a list. How could I not know about a list?!?
See, such things were always important to me. I just recently (well, as recent as today, in fact) figured out that I have always based my capabilities of being a good mother on keeping up with or outdo-ing others.
That is not what makes a good mother at all.
A good mother is made up of time, hugs and kisses, playing, cuddling and listening. There are so many qualities that make up a good mother. But, the type of dress, type of minivan, and type of activities do not define a good mother. What a relief it is for me to have this realization.
How did I come to this conclusion, you ask?
Well, as Tripp turns four this Friday, I am preparing for his birthday party - but I just started today. This is foreign for me. I am always months ahead in planning, down to the theme-matching outfit, color coordinated goody bag contents, and the coordinated brother-sister outfits. Yet today, my dad had (yet another) heart procedure, summer school has just started, my house is a wreck and I work a full time job.
As I started with the goody bags, I had an epiphany.
Tripp doesn't care.
The only person that cares is me.
The kids - as well as the party-goers - will not remember anything about the decorations, whether Tripp's swimming trunks matched his cake, or whether the color of the cups matched the color of the potato chips.
They will remember having fun.
Tripp will remember playing, laughing, and being with family and friends on such an important day.
And that is the most important thing. This knowledge will help me be a better mother.
Amen!!!
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