On Being a Mother

It's Mother's Day, and so I'm thinking a lot about motherhood this weekend. These thoughts, I admit, are a bit scattered, but I felt the need to record them.

Being a mother is best. It's also the worst. And the greatest. And the hardest. And the most fun. And the most painful. Being a mother is just, well, everything. It's all consuming.

My mother's day didn't start off too well this morning. In a moment of sadness, I felt like a failure as a mom. I don't do nearly half the things I want to with my kids and struggle constantly to be all I want to be as a mother.
Later in church, a speaker shared this quote: "To all mothers in every circumstance, including those who struggle—and all will—I say, “Be peaceful. Believe in God and yourself. You are doing better than you think you are. In fact, you are saviors on Mount Zion, and like the Master you follow, your love ‘never faileth.’" (Elder Jeffrey R Holland) I instantly felt a weight lifted off of me. I know there are many things I need to work on as a mom and there are so many things I can do better every day, but maybe I'm not a total failure. 

So I'm far, far from perfect. Last week I kept running out of time to go to the grocery store and by Thursday we honestly had no food left. I gave Jude leftover cold pizza for breakfast and he told me he was going to tell his preschool teacher that we didn't have any food. I felt like a pretty terrible mom at that moment. Thankfully, no one called CPS and I was able to hit the store later that day, but definitely one of those not so stellar parenting moments. Or later when Ellie ignored my warnings to put her ballet shoes away and of course 5 minutes before ballet class they are nowhere to be found, I just totally lost it on her. But after a prayer for help, we found one shoe in the toy pile and another in the garage. I spent the next hour silently praying for forgiveness for yelling at a small child for something so silly. But thankfully, children are so forgiving. We playing Octonaut Princesses and went on a special outing to Ikea together and all was well.

Today in church, after I began to gain my confidence back from the great Spirit I felt, my little Lucy did something my kids NEVER do; she fell asleep on my chest and took a little nap. It was such a sweet, tender mercy to actually snuggle my baby for a few minutes. It's a small moment I hope I will always remember.

Sometimes I contemplate what it will be like in the eternities and what it will be like to look back on mortality. We are told in the scriptures that we will have a bright recollection of this life, I'm guessing even better than our recollection now. When I imagine looking back on my time here on earth, I believe I will see the small things. Chasing Jude and Eleanor down the hallway with Lucy giggling after her siblings (until someone slips and cries). Saying a prayer with Jude at bedtime. Laying on the grass with Lucy and staring at the sun. Singing a princess song with Eleanor. Looking around the table at my crazy family at dinnertime and wondering how I am so blessed. Sometimes in a moment, I'll stop and remember this: that one day I may very well look back on this exact, tiny minute in time; will I be saddened because I wasted it? Usually, that's enough motivation for me to put down my phone and go crawl for a minute on the floor with the baby. Or stop and slow down to look at the trees outside. I truly believe these will be the moments I treasure most as a mother, now and in the eternities.

I absolutely love this quote from Elder Maxwell; it reminds me of the power I hold as a mother, for good and bad. It reminds me that in the end, small moments of motherhood are what will ultimately influence the lives of my children, and even history itself. It's intimidating certainly, but I know I was given this responsibility because the Lord trusts me and with His help, I will thrive. When I think about motherhood in these terms, is there really anything else of greater importance?

“When the real history of mankind is fully disclosed, will it feature the echoes of gunfire or the shaping sound of lullabies? The great armistices made by military men or the peacemaking of women in homes and in neighborhoods? Will what happened in cradles and kitchens prove to be more controlling than what happened in congresses? When the surf of the centuries has made the great pyramids so much sand, the everlasting family will still be standing..."

I do struggle, all the time, but motherhood is so worth it. It's worth the wait, the heartache, and the frustration. It's everything to me, my children, my family, society, and the world.