My heart raced with anticipation. That dread. That guilt. “Could I be doing more?”
She has four kids, groomed to perfection. Gourmet meals adorn her table, and her house has the delightful stench of cleanliness.
My hatred for her boils my blood, but stems not from her idealistic misinterpretation of perfection but from my guilt. Perhaps I could be a better mother. Perhaps I could be a better wife.
Parenthood is like running a marathon. It burns training for it, it is exhausting beyond measure, there are times you just want to give up, but in the end it is one of the most rewarding things you've ever chosen to devote your time to.
While I delve into my mom guilt, basking in the evilness of her critical stare, I know the truth.
I don’t always do organic foods, whole wheat, or even fruits and veggies. Sometimes we survive completely on macaroni, cheese, and spaghettios. Because it is less time consuming.
There are days when I insist I have to go to the bathroom rather than read Green Eggs and Ham for the 346th time. Because it saves my sanity.
I may not keep my house in impecable shape. Because I have more important things to devote my time to.
I am not cookie cutter Mom. Those eyes can slice and dice me however they want to, because I know that I am doing it right.
I may not follow the mass media recommendations or the accepted social norms, but I know that I am raising a daughter that exemplifies the morals my husband and I share. A daughter that I am proud to call mine.
I'm raising a daughter that won't care if she had spaghettios because we spent extra time cuddling or swinging on the back porch.
I know she'll forgive me for the unbaked bread, the dusty china cabinet, and the unfolded socks.
I know she'll forgive me for the unwashed windows, tousled beds, and the fast food dinners.
I'm raising a daughter that will forgive me for my imperfections, because those are the very same traits that make me her mom.
The beauty of parenthood is that it is yours, all yours. You choose the value of your time, and you pay the price.
I choose to be her loving, playful, teacher and Mom first and foremost, and everything else may wait. I pray she'll forgive me for that.
*This post was written in response to the Red Dress Club's prompt about forgiveness. Constructive criticism is welcomed and greatly appreciated. I strive to improve my writing and always appreciate your feedback in doing so.*