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The Ideal Mother



In a few short days, I'll get to add another baby to this collage. 

As I tried to get my almost 39 week pregnant self comfortable in bed last night, tossing and turning, tucking pillows here and there, I mumbled something along the lines of, "I can't wait to have this baby so I can sleep comfortably."

Then, realizing what I had just said, I added, "I know I should be enjoying these last few quiet nights before baby comes and I'm up all night feeding the baby and then complaining that I get no sleep."  

But then remembering my pregnancy-induced insomnia that I've been suffering with over these last few weeks, I said, "But at least when I'm awake at night, I'll be accomplishing something instead of staring at the ceiling."

Chet started to say something, but I interrupted.  "But its all worth it in the end."  I said, realizing that I had been doing a whole lot of complaining.  "If I was the ideal mother, I would enjoy every one of these moments and not wish I was at the next stage already."  

The ideal mother.  I saw a quote the other day that said, "I'd love to be an ideal mother but I'm too busy raising my children."  I'm not a quote person, in fact, I usually loathe quotes, but this one struck a chord.  Most of us have grand plans when we set out on this journey of motherhood.  And I'm sure few of us accomplish what we had planned.  

So many times I go to bed at night and wish that I would have stopped doing whatever I was doing to read a book with the toddler or snuggle longer with the baby or play a game with the four year old instead of telling him to go find something to do or thoroughly answer the six year old's questions instead of just saying, "I don't know."  The ideal mother certainly would have done those things.  The ideal mother would go to bed each night knowing she did all those things and more.  The ideal mother wouldn't complain.  Instead, I go to bed promising to do those things tomorrow.    

I think sometimes of my own mother, raising thirteen children.  I was number nine, born at what I'm sure was a busy time in their lives.  She gave us individual attention, but it probably wasn't each and every day.  She read to us and played with us, but more than likely it wasn't upon our demand.  And I'm sure when I asked her question after question as a curious six year old, I probably got a lot of answers like, "I don't know." 

But I went to bed every night feeling loved and feeling safe.  And sometimes when I feel like the less than ideal mother, I remind myself of that.  If my kids can go to bed at night knowing that they are loved, then I have done my job.



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