Was Mother’s Day really just two days ago? Really??? Given the past two days I’ve had, it’s sort of hard to believe. I’ve been less than Mother of the Year to say the least. I got the most touching little homemade card from my angelic ten year old which said (and I really am quoting) “I will be great today. Just like you are as a perfect mom…well most of the time anyway.” Wow. Now that’s brutal honesty. I don’t think Hallmark will be calling him anytime soon. But I loved it. It’s definitely a keeper.

The sermon on Mother’s Day was all about how a mother’s role is to be the peacemaker in her home. She’s supposed to have this calming effect in each situation and know how to recognize the positive in the midst of negative. It was a good sermon. I left, however, feeling like a complete failure. I know that being a mom is the most important role I’ll ever play, but unfortunately it isn’t the one I play the best. Maybe every mom feels this way from time to time…but I think I stink at it actually.

This becomes even more obvious to me when I spend time with a particular friend of mine. She is the ultimate good mom in my opinion. She has four kids. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her raise her voice at any of them. They aren’t perfect kids, but they’re really good ones. They’re polite and smart and funny and respectful. Her household is peaceful. I’ve been with her & her kids before and one of them will say or do something and I’ll think, “Oh…THIS is going to make her yell for sure!” and then she’ll respond in this unbelievably wise way. She’ll be all soft & everything and point out what the kid did wrong and then she’s done with it. I usually sit there thinking that I would never have thought to respond that way. I would’ve yelled, thrown in a little sarcasm and then brought it up again a couple of times later. Granted, she is just genetically wired to be calmer than me in the first place, but still…I could do much better than what I do. When my kid laughs at me or lies to me, my brain just cannot think of anything positive to say. When he gets in trouble at school for the third day in a row, my patience wears thin. When he refuses to do anything around the house to help out, I don’t feel like positive reinforcement is in order.

I wish so badly that my mom was still around so I could pick her brain. My sister and I have had that conversation before. What was her secret? She obviously raised two close to perfect kids. (please note the sarcasm in that sentence…) I don’t remember my mom yelling much – but I certainly do. I DO remember her wielding a yard stick, a fly swatter and a wooden paddle, but I DON’T remember her using them on me that often. I remember her gift for guilt. She was a genius with this weapon and it worked like a charm on me. I remember having such respect for her that doing anything to disappoint her would just kill me. So I wonder where I went so terribly wrong with my son. Is it because I’ve always worked outside the home and he’s felt neglected? Is it because I’m too self-absorbed and he doesn’t feel special? Is it because my expectations are too high and he resents it? I could keep going with this, but you get the point…

For several years I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to have children, and I can’t have anymore. This one is a special gift and I know that. I feel a huge sense of responsibility for being a good steward of this gift. It’s overwhelming to me that who he becomes will be based largely on how his dad and I handle the years we have with him. And it scares me to death that I might have already screwed him up beyond repair. But then I remember that I’m not in this alone. God has a little to do with it too. That is comforting.

And there are the glimmers of hope. There’s the spontaneous squeezy hug. There’s the “good night mom. I love you.” after we’ve argued all day long. There’s the moment I catch him watching me type and then he asks me to show him how. I know they sound insignificant, but to me they’re golden. They remind me that he does still love me and maybe even respects me a tiny bit. He is a good boy. He’s smart and funny and has all the makings of a great leader someday.

So…there might be raised voices in my house and the occasional slamming door. We don’t say “I love you” to end every phone call or even “have a good day” on most mornings. (On MOST mornings we’re lucky to make it out the door at all) Ours is definitely not a textbook, perfect family. We are all learning as we go and mess up more than we get it right. But hopefully there is enough love in our family to compensate for the mistakes. I’m counting on it.