World's Okayest Mom

Braeden told me that he used to feel jealous of the 1st graders I work with but now he just thinks they're cute.

I said, "You were jealous you didn't get to go to the school too?"

"No," he said, "I was jealous you loved them more than me."

I told him that was the weirdest thing he'd ever said, and that is saying something.  He said, "Really?  I think I've said a lot weirder things than that."

Then he thought about it awhile and said it wasn't jealousy he used to feel, he had a negative emotion when I talked about the students and he assigned jealousy, but now he thinks he just felt bad for them because they were struggling.

(It is well established that Braeden will do anything for someone who is suffering which is why Mark started exclaiming dramatically about back pain when he was trying to get Braeden to help him empty the garbage.)

I walked by Felicia, my fiddle leaf fig, and I noticed one of her leaves was askew.  Braeden said, "I maybe brushed against it the other day."

"If you're going to be jealous of anything, be jealous of Felicia.  I do love her more than I love you."

(This may be something I learned from my dad.  Once when I was using his Garcia saddle he told me it was worth more than me so to make sure I came home with it.)

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I mentioned I wanted to grow cilantro and Emma said, "Why do you want to grow the devil's lettuce?  Some people think it's marijuana, but it's cilantro."

(Emma doesn't like cilantro, in case that wasn't clear.)

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The worst part of every day (every day we remember) is me putting Mark's elastics in his mouth.  He has to wear three and one of them is really hard to put in.  You have to go from the inside on the top to the outside on the bottom.  He can't do it and I'm the only one in the family with small enough fingers to do it.  (I don't have exceptionally small hands, but I do have small hands for a Davis.)  Every night (that we remember) he lays on my bed with his mouth agape like a baby bird and I wrestle with those elastics and curse the name of our orthodontist.

The other night, I was telling him a story, like I do, and really botching the elastics.  I was flinging them all around his mouth and accidentally digging my fingernails into his gums and he finally said, "You have to stop talking.  You are not on the top of your game here and you need to focus."

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So the point of all this, if there is one (and if you are a reader of this blog, you know there isn't always a point), is that motherhood:  not easy.

You have conversations where you tell your child you love a plant more than him, you can't please your children, and sometimes you just talk too much and need to focus.

I recently read Real Moms by Lisa Valentine Clark (liked the book plus another sticker for Worm Joe!) and I've been thinking about motherhood.  What makes a good mother?  There's really no good way for us to gauge.  Sometimes we try to think that it's based on good outcomes.  We have good kids = we are good mothers.  That's not fair though.  Free agency, you know.  Are we good mothers because other people think we're good mothers?  Because our houses are tidy?  Our kids are wearing reasonably clean clothes?  We have healthy kids?  Smart kids?  I don't know.  I don't think any of those are a good measure.

Probably the only one who knows whether or not we're a good mother is God, because He sees us trying.  I don't know very many mothers who aren't trying, so here's my conclusion:  every mother is a good mother.

You heard it here first.