I'm A Mom

I know that I have used this blog to both praise my children and just as often bitch about them as well.

When Emily first came into this world I had no idea what to expect. I was 23 years old and had been married just a year. I know for a lot of moms there is no magical maternal instincts that kick in the moment you first see your child. I would agree. I knew that I was exhausted and that the baby being passed around was mine and something that I wanted to make sure was OK. The next few days were a blur as I tried to figure out how to keep her from crying. Emily will be five this July.

When Palmer came into the world I was overwhelmed with relief that he was OK. Palmer's heartbeat had dropped suddenly and we were rushed into an operating room for a crash c-section after 14 hours of labor. Exhausted and terrified that something was wrong when I heard his cry for the first time I immediately burst into tears in relief that he was OK. Palmer was such a good baby (so different from my colicky Emily) which was a relief because shortly after he was born we began our journey here to PA.

Over the past several years I learned that one thing that is consistent with all mothers is the unprecedented ability to worry. Are they eating enough, are they growing, do they feel safe, are they making friends, does Emily know her letters well enough, do they feel loved, are they spoiled, is that freckle on Emily's neck just a freckle, will Palmer's immunizations give Palmer autism, and on and on.

In addition to worry a mother is plagued with guilt. Do they resent me because I work and leave them at daycare all day, do I yell at them too much, should I spank them when they are bad, am I teaching them good manners, should I be spending more time reading to them and less time watching TV, how many times is OK to eat McDonald's in a month?

I don't have the answers. It never feels like I have the answers (except when talking to a less experienced mom then of course I have all kinds of unsolicited advice...j/k). At the end of the day a mom can only do her best and hope that that is enough. Loving my children has been the easiest thing to do. Raising them has been the hardest. I make mistakes and my children know that I am not perfect. I apologize sometimes and sometimes I admit that I was wrong. If when I die someday my children can say that I loved them and that I did my best then that is enough for me. I am honored to be their mom and I thank GOD every day for they (and Bret) are my greatest blessings.