I Was a Good Mom Until I Had Kids

For the last couple of days I have felt worn down and discouraged as I work on disciplining my 3yr-old and battling through tantrums. I ran out of the patience to use "positive discipline" and yelled too much.
Did any of you have parents who threatened you as a child saying, "I hope you have kids just like you!" and it happened? Yeah, me too. Mcayden is strong-willed and stubborn. Thanks a lot Mom.
My goodness, I love him to pieces, but sometimes I just feel unsure how to teach and guide him. And how to keep my cool when I just want to sell him to the Gypsies. Sometimes I feel like a "bad" mom.

Today is my 3rd Mother's Day and to my dismay both kids were whining and crying this morning as we tried to get out the door for church. I was like, "Hey kids, it's Mother's Day. Let's not make the whole day suck, okay?!" I didn't say it out loud, but I thought it.

Then, this afternoon, we sat together eating ice cream and laughing. It was my favorite part of the day. I soaked it in. It's minute to minute with kids, I swear.

Below is a part of a talk I gave, in church, on Mother's Day a couple of years ago. I kept thinking about it today and would like to share parts of it with you.

Many women have different feelings about Mother's Day. Some love it and look forward to it, while others may dread it. We all have our reasons for feeling how we do.

I grew up in a family of five girls and the older I get the more I see how much my mom sacrificed for us all. It's amazing how moms do that.

Victor Hugo wrote: "She broke the bread into two fragments and then gave them to her children who ate with eagerness.

"She hath kept none for herself", grumbled the sergeant.

"Because she is not hungry", said a soldier.

"No", said the sergeant. "Because she is a mother."

"For All the Mothers Who..." by Cindy Lange-Kubick

(with a couple of small changes by me)

This is for all the mothers who didn't win Mother of the Year in 2008. All the runner-ups and all the wannabes. The mothers too tired to enter or too busy to care.

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at soccer games Friday night instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see my goal?" they could say, "Of course I did. I wouldn't have missed it for the world", and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who have sat up at night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf-laced-with-Oscar-Meyer-wieners and cherry Kool-Aid, saying "It's okay honey, Mommy's here."

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and made them homes.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who don't.

What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?

The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner and sew a button on a shirt all at the same time? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter go down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2a.m. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby? The need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?

I think so.

This is for reading "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then reading it again, "just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who mess up. Who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair and stomp their feet like a tired 2-yr old who wants ice cream before dinner.

This is for all the mothers who taught their daughters to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

For all the mothers who bite their lips--sometimes until they bleed--when their 14yr old dye their hair green. Who lock themselves in the bathroom when babies keep crying and won't stop.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purses.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for all the mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls, "Mom?" in a crown, even though they know their own kids are at home.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children's graves.

This is for mothers who children have gone astray, who can't find the words to teach them.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers, foster-mothers, step-mothers. Single mothers and married mothers.

This is for you all. So hang in there.

Happy Mother's Day.

And Thank you.