February 24, 2023
Vulnerable post alert.
Today I cried. My husband and I went to our children’s school to have a parent conference with our daughter’s teacher, and then we ran into the guidance counselor on the way out and had a discussion about our son. I sat in my daughter’s classroom, listening to her teacher reassure some of my worries and anxieties, and without even knowing, the tears just began to fall. This wasn’t a bad conference, right? I scheduled it truly just to get a better sense of how my sweet girl was doing and what I could be doing at home to support her. Could she be better? Could I be better? And as I listened to her 3rd grade teacher speak to me, I just began to cry.
In the hallway, greeted by our wonderful counselor who knows and supports my children, I listened to the ways in which my son was being supported and the ways in which both my children have a fabulous talent of using their words to express their feelings and needs to adults. And as I listened to the guidance counselor, the tears just fell. I began to cry.
On the way to work after both encounters at my children’s school, I called my husband and apologized for all my emotions. I continued to cry.
I arrived at preschool and, after greeting very happy children in the carpool line, I retreated to my office and the tears came back. I began to cry (but totally hidden and not in a way that impacted my job or your kids, y’all…haha).
Today I was a mom. I know that technically, every second of my life, I’m a mom, but this morning? Full-on mom, wading through parenting, and today, it just felt like the muck and mire I was wading through was thick and deep. We know that parenting is hard. No one becomes a parent and thinks, “Wow, can’t wait to do something easy.”
It reminds me something I saw this week on Insta:
“Today we woke up and decided we were done with having a clean house and sleeping in. So we decided to have kids.”
Instagram Meme
But dang. Sometimes the hard of parenting just sticks out and it’s heavy.
I think of all of you preschool parents out there, who drop their children off with us each day and rely on us to care for your kiddos. To comfort boo-boos, to help teach a kind word, to change a diaper, to help glue, to introduce a letter, to keep safe. I think of all your questions and your natural curiosity of what your children do here each day, but mostly I think about the innate question you must have while you kids are with us:
Is My Child OK?
– All Parents
Is my child ok? Isn’t this the question that hits us so hard, the one that we grapple with no matter how old our children grow? Is my child ok?
- Is my child happy?
- Is my child safe?
- Is my child doing what they should be doing – wait…what should they be doing?? Are they doing all that they can be doing…wait…what is all that they can be doing??
- Is my child kind to others?
- Is my child ok and is my child enough?
- Am I enough? Am I doing everything I possibly can to make sure my child is ok?
There is nothing more exhausting than breaking down that “is my child ok” question, but that’s what we do each day as parents. And y’all, the pressure that exists surrounding the “is my child ok” question is ridiculous. The pressure we put on ourselves. The pressure we put on our children. The pressure we put on all the caretakers for our children. Just to make sure they are ok.
I’m solidly in your boat, guys. I am in the boat and I feel like I am steering with two broken oars sometimes. The muck and mire is thick and deep, and it just feels heavy.
Here’s the good thing, y’all. The kids? They are going to be okay. Even if they are not okay in the moment. You’ve got them. God’s got them.
You? Me? We are going to be okay. Even if we are not okay in the moment. When we are stuck in the boat and the muck and mire, we have life jackets of support ready to pull us to the shore. This morning, I had two friends at the preschool pull me up and reassure me in all the best ways. I had the happiest and funniest little kids surrounding me and making me laugh. And it also helps to know that in the end, God is our biggest life jacket. He does not forget about us, even when we are stuck. He does not leave us in the boat alone – we just have to be on the lookout for the life jackets he throws our way.
This morning I cried. This morning, I was a mom. These days are hard sometimes. But it will be okay.