I can’t give you perfection, but I can give you all of me, without holding anything back.

I can give you my whole heart.

I can let you see me laugh and cry and everything in between.

I can admit when I’m wrong (even if it takes me awhile to realize sometimes).

I can hold you when everything seems to be falling apart.

I know I will disappoint you sometimes. I wish that wasn’t the case, but it is.

I will hurt your feelings. I will snap when I should be kind. I will be hard on you when you need softness. I know that I will, (I have already).

I will let you down. More than I’d like to admit.

I can’t give you perfection, dear one, but…

I can listen when I realize I’ve hurt you. I can apologize and do my best to do better the next time.

I can be your safe place when you mess up (again) and believe me, you will mess up a lot.  We all mess up a lot, my love.

My eggs are often overcooked and I always burn the toast, but I will give you enough to grow and think and dream. It will be enough to be an astronaut or a lawyer or an artist.

I am messy and disorganized and I forget to sign your school papers.

I’m fiery and sometimes I react before I think it through.

I’m grumpy, tired, and stressed more than I’d like to be.

I can’t give you perfection, not even close…

But I can give you room and space to feel your emotions too.

I can give you my listening ear to hear your stories, your fears, your struggles, and your dreams.

I can give you my best and my bravest. I will never stop loving you or striving to do better by you. You are my treasure, my star, my firework.

My heart is yours, forever and for always.

I will partner with you and stand by you through every hardship, and through every milestone.

I won’t be perfect, but I will be present.

Despite how I fail, I pray that you will know how widely and deeply and safely YOU ARE LOVED. The thing is, dear one, I can’t ever give you perfection, but I don’t expect perfection from you either.

Feel free to make a mess and to make mistakes. I will be right here by you. I have lots of experience with messes and we are in this together;

Every. Single. Step. Of. The. Way.

Love,

Mama

***

This pic is compliments of my amazing friend Liz. You can follow her sweet lifestyle blog on Insta &Facebook.

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I’m laying on my bed hiding right now. I can hear the kids bickering as they get ready for bed, and a little voice calling for water and a song. I’m tired and weary to my bones. I will get up anyway. I will go kiss little foreheads and pray a prayer. I will get the extra sip of water and I will listen while they tell me about their toe with the sliver. I will say, “Okay sweetie, no more talking. It’s time to sleep now, ” but then I will still say “uh-huh” a couple more times as I sneak out the door.

Now that I’m a mom, I’ve learned that motherhood is a lot more about showing up than it is about anything else.

It’s about showing up when you are tired, and scared, and exhausted, and mad. It’s pulling yourself through the motions when you have nothing left to give.

There were times in my life when I expected perfection from you. I expected you to know what to say and to never get tired or upset. I expected you to be a goddess instead of a mother, and now I know; now I get it.

I dream back about my life and I can imagine how you must have felt (just like I do now). I can imagine it because I’ve walked ten miles in your shoes.

Now I know, you were perfect.

I don’t judge a single decision that you made, or a single thing you said. I get it. I understand.

I understand what you sacrificed. I understand now how you laid your life down for my brother and I. I understand how you put things on hold to give us all you could. I understand how you wrestled with every decision you made.

I imagine how you must have felt the first time you held us in your arms. How you must have felt such love, such magic, and been oh so overwhelmed.

I imagine the tears you must have cried, that I will never know about.

No matter what happened in our lives everything felt stable because of you. “It will be fine, you’ll be fine, we are fine,” you said. Now I know that you said that even when you were scared.

In my teen years and my young adulthood I looked for what broke me. There was so much talk about counseling and inner healing. All those things are good, sure, but I was broken because we are all broken. It wasn’t anyone’s fault and it definitely wasn’t yours.

You did your best and that is the most precious gift anyone has ever given me.

You showed up again and again and again.

You came and tucked me in when you were weary to the bone. You tried your best to get it right, and you apologized when you thought you got it wrong.

I will never again hold you or anyone else to the impossible standard of perfect.

Thank you Mom.

You did an amazing job.

I understand, and now I know.

I know my kids won’t understand half of what I do. I know I will frustrate and confuse them. I know there will be times when they will wonder at how I let them down, and that’s okay. I haven’t been perfect, I have made lots and lots of mistakes, but I will keep showing up again and again and again…

just like you did.

Maybe one day they’ll walk ten miles in my shoes and they will know, but even if they don’t, I’m okay with that.

You taught me how to be a mother, and amazing mother…

Thank you Mom.

***

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We are never going to be perfect. Sometimes we are going to be messy, and human, and moody.

Sometimes we are going to feel real crappy at this. That’s normal I think.

Sometimes we are going to lose our cool. Like when I held the tablet out the car window and threatened to let it break into one million pieces if EVERYONE DIDN’T LISTEN UP RIGHT NOW. I scared them so badly that then I spent 45 minutes comforting them.

I’m going to call this bonding.

Somedays we might not want anyone to touch us. We won’t want them to tap our face, or jump on our back, or caress our cheek tenderly. We won’t want to share our skin AT ALL on that day, and then we might wonder if Queen Cersei is more maternal than us.

Sometimes there’s going to be a thing “that good moms do” that we don’t want to do. Like crafts for example. Mostly I would rather light my own hair on fire than do a craft.

Sometimes we will want to escape from them. We will want to go somewhere without questions or sticky hands or crumbs. We will want to run and run and run and hopefully end up somewhere that has wine and back massages. If not, then Target will also work.

Sometimes we are going to feel more tired than loving. Like when my kids touch literally everything in a public restroom and I wonder if it is cool to use hand sanitizer on their entire body.

Sometimes we will spend a whole day just saying, “I just said DON’T do that!”

The thing is…

Sometimes we are just going to show up without any warm feelings, or nice thoughts, and it will still be love.

It will be an incredibly strong and resilient kind of love. It will be a mom kind of love.

Sometimes we are going to clean a disgusting toilet while also having an identity crisis (WHAT HAVE I DONE WITH MY LIFE) and it will be love.

Sometimes we are going to tell them “no” and they will not act loved. They will act very very mad and neglected, but it will still be love.

Sometimes we are going to cry in our pillow at night wondering if we are doing a good enough job…and it will be love.

Our love is often unseen and unsung, but it is real and true and beautiful.

I don’t care what your day was like today. I don’t care if you lost your temper or you never put on a bra or if you didn’t get out of bed…you are doing a great job. I SEE YOU. I see you putting bandaids on invisible owies and I see you microwaving quesadillas when you are long past running out of steam. I SEE YOU. I see you singing one last bedtime song when all you want to do is eat an entire Toblerone alone in the bath. I SEE YOU.

I also see that sometimes you don’t sing that last song. That’s OKAY too.

I hope you feel proud of the mom that you are. Not the mom you might be one day, not the one you wish you were, but the mom that you are.

Our kids are not comparing us to a supermom they saw on Facebook or Pinterest. They aren’t wishing we were someone else. They aren’t hoping that one day we will get it together and be more organized, and they aren’t embarrassed that we haven’t done laundry in three weeks.

No one is harder on us than us.

No one has an impossible standard for us…except for us.

Let’s stop wishing we were someone else. Let’s stop wishing for different strengths and gifts and be the moms that we already are. Crafts aren’t my jam. So be it.

Let’s give ourselves a giant break.

As long as we keep them off of Pinterest Birthday Party boards I think everyone is going to be just fine.

To my fellow warriors in the trenches I honor you today.

Today celebrate all your successes and all your wins.

Happy almost Mother’s Day. Now, let’s gear up for some  burnt toast and average flowers.

I SEE YOU.

XOXO

Jess

***

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You are not going to get advice from me on teaching toddlers to read, or getting your kids to stop gagging on their vegetables. I could however offer a step-by-step guide to watching them chew on the same vegetable for two hours, until you eventually give up and let them spit it out.

I am not very perfect at parenting, but I do love my kids enough to cuddle with them while they smell like pee, and I feel like that’s kind of a lot.

I’m not perfect, but I am enough…and so are you.

I enjoy them enough. 

Sometimes I smell their hair and I kiss their cheeks. I laugh at their jokes and I marvel that I am so blessed. Time stops in moments like that and everything is perfect and worth it.

Other times I am unsure if I will survive the hours of 4:00-8:30 pm, and if one can die of overexposure to bickering.

One can. I’m sure of it.

I enjoy them enough.

*

I am good enough at bedtime. 

Sometimes we read together. We snuggle on the couch and I read them Hardy Boys or Anne of Green Gables.

Other times I race through a bedtime song like I’m Alvin the chipmunk. I punctuate it with a kiss and I run outa there like it is a hostage situation. (Because it is). They cry out after me that their water is old, that their backs itch, and their underwear is twisted. This is when I hide behind the freezer door shoveling cookie dough ice cream into my mouth, wondering who will give up first…me or them.

I am good enough at bedtime. 

*

I am together enough. 

We eat meals together. We love each other, and we laugh together.

I also lose all school papers even though they come in a convenient shade of neon and my daughter (age 6)  just asked me that, “if I’m going to come to her school today could I please wear ‘real’ clothes?” Then, on the way there (in case she wasn’t clear earlier) she asked me if I remembered my pants.

I am together enough.

*

I am fun enough. 

Sometimes I take every single thing too seriously. Like crumbs and clutter and teeth brushing. I have an out of body experience while I am lecturing them and I wonder if they will remember anything other than me being grumpy.

Other times I laugh so hard with my kids that my stomach hurts.  We play games, we go on hikes, and we dance in the living room in our pajamas.

I am fun enough. 

*

I’m good enough at housekeeping. 

Sometimes I pick crumbs off of the carpet and throw them under my couch. Sometimes the downstairs bathroom causes me to imagine the Health Department coming to my house and posting a D- in my front window. I fantasize that they will shut us down and we will be forced to eat at our parents house every single night from now on.

That sounds wonderful.

Other times my house is vacuumed and my counters are clean. I’m playing coffeehouse radio on Spotify and there’s a candle burning.

 I am good enough at housekeeping. 

*

I am good enough at self care. 

Sometimes I cannot recall my last shower.  I go to the grocery store with a pillow imprint still on my face and a pair of sweats that the 18-year-old cashiers never wanted to know about.

Other times I wear makeup and I brush my hair…and nothing…not a thousand rabid hyenas can keep me away from a ladies’ night.

I’m good enough at self care. 

*

I am a good enough wife. 

Sometimes I’m a great listener and an epic encourager. We laugh together and dream together and he is truly my favorite person.

Sometimes he gets all the brunt of my frustration. He gets my snappy responses and my rolling eyes. Sometimes when he needs a pep talk I say, “Why did you do that?”

Which he loves, for the record.

I am a good enough wife.

*

I am good enough at nutrition. 

Sometimes I declare it a pizza night. We use paper plates and I share my love affair with ranch dressing.

Other times I buy large bags of organic carrots and force feed my children spinach. I plan meals and I worry if they’re eating too much sugar.

I am good enough at nutrition.

*

I love them enough.

I LOVE MY KIDS. I love them in all their messy, smelly, ridiculous, and hilarious glory.

I love them and I love them and I love them…

and that’s what makes everything else I do enough.

It makes everything you do enough too Mama.

We love them enough.

*

I have had a lot of requests for this hoodie, so here ya go…

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