The best intentions

One day when my girls look back on their childhood I am sure they will find some fault or praise for their parents, for their Mom, for impacting who they are. While I hope it's more praise than fault, it is inevitable I will not be perfect in all ways to them.

I'll be the first to admit that I am not always the best Mom. I try really had and my heart and intentions are good, but I mess up, A LOT. There is no greater pressure or responsibility in life, I think, than raising two little people to be responsible, respectful, healthy adults.

Daily I hope and pray that my inadequacies as a Mom are overshadowed by the sheer love I have for them. I want to do nothing but the best for my girls but often I fall short. My patience wears thin. My voice is raised. My frustration is high. My ability to keep it together with everything life throws my way, waivers. I disappoint them. I disappointment myself, because I am not perfect.

I want to be. I want to be the perfect Mom who raises two wonderful kids that are well behaved and great contributors to society. I want to not be exhausted or stressed or overwhelmed at times by the responsibility, but I am. I put too much pressure on myself and in turn expect too much of me and often of them.

I wish I was more carefree, that I didn't feel like very decision I make regarding my kids turns them down a path to greatness or not so greatness. And in my need to control it all, I often control nothing and feel powerless.

The logical side of me knows that even the seemingly wonderful parent, isn't always. That even at my worst, I am still far better than many. That I love my girls and the occasional meltdown makes me human. That my thoughts of how flawed I am in comparison to some unrealistic notion of the rest of the world are just ridiculous.

Yet, I am not always logical. And it makes me sad.