I don’t particularly love Mondays.  For some reason, I seem to stumble through them, as if expecting one more day in the weekend to prepare for the week ahead, but lost it.
Thus, I’m not surprised when I have an especially ‘hard’ Monday, and today was no exception.

First, it might be helpful to know a brief background of my motherhood credentials.  I am blessed with three amazing and beautiful children:
Ben(7), my insightful and ‘too smart for his own good’ second grader; Nolan(4), my loving, temperamental preschooler; and Adelynn(2), my spunky and sassy toddler.
I am very fortunate to stay home with my three children during this precious season of life.  I worked full-time outside the home until Ben was four and Nolan was six months.  Immediately after I left my corporate job, I worked part-time from home.  And for the last two years, I have focused solely on raising  my three children.

Currently, we are journeying through our first year of homeschooling while trying to complete the refinishing of our new-to-us (1967) home.  These two elements alone may qualify me for a mental health evaluation.

So today during another challenging Monday, as I was charging full speed down the road of feeling like a huge mom fail once again, I just stopped.  I stopped the negative self-talk, along with the comparison game of never measuring up in any way, and I remembered.

Call it a revelation, insight, or a gift, but I know last Tuesday my eyes were opened by the One who knew I needed to turn my downcast gaze from my issues and self-loathing, and observe the struggles of those around me.  If only it wasn’t so difficult to change the perspective lens at any moment in life; yet during a struggle it feels especially hard.

On this particular day, while I was feeling like a candidate for ‘Bad Mom of the Year Award’, I crossed paths with two exceptional women who were feeling defeated in motherhood as well.  What’s so ironic is that the three of us share some similar qualities and struggles; but we also have our own unique circumstances.

You know my background, so here’s the story of my ‘mom fail’ day.  My two little ones both had their Well Check-Ups with our pediatrician in the late afternoon.   Apparently, when I scheduled the appointments several months ago, I thought right at the very end of nap-time was a good appointment selection.  Of course, per Murphy’s Law, my normally good nappers put up a rare and long fought battle.  I finally gave up on my two year old and let her ‘cry it out’ in her crib so I could at least shower in hopes I wouldn’t look the way I felt (scary mom).  If you have ever had a doctor’s appointment, you know it’s best to avoid the afternoon because inevitably the appointments are always running behind and you are guaranteed a longer wait.  After we arrived and were settled in our room, a nurse came in and asked if I had brought the completed paperwork.  What paperwork?

“Ugh, OK.  Well this is going to take you a while so you better get started.”

I tried to explain we had moved recently, and our mail had been forwarded, etc., but she could have cared less, thrilled, actually.

So just imagine: distracted mom frantically filling out ridiculous piles of paperwork for two kids, a small room, an agitated nurse, three little ones, and a long wait.  Naturally, by the time our doctor arrived mayhem had already ensued.
I should pause to mention, I love our pediatrician.  She is a wonderful, caring, sincere, intelligent doctor, and a mom herself.  But by the time I left the office I felt like I had just finished running twenty-five flights of stairs with a 50 pound pack of weights, at a rave… naked.  Sweaty, exhausted, disoriented, confused, and humiliated.
“I promise my kids know how to listen…to their dad, anyway.”
“I realize we live in a good district, and yet, we are homeschooling.”
“No, I’m not potty training my two year old or taking her out of her crib yet.” (I didn’t even mention she still takes a pacifier!)
“No, I don’t think we need therapy…yet.”

Did I mention I was supposed to pick up my friend’s four year old from preschool at 4 and it was now 4:15?  Ugh.

Thankfully, the pickup went much better than the doctor’s appointment.  I then looked down to see several texts from his mom who was on a plane from a business meeting, and the flight had been delayed multiple times.  Her arrival time had now been pushed more than two hours beyond what she anticipated.  She felt horrible.  She called herself a bad mom, and confessed to feeling guilty and being on the verge of tears that she couldn’t be there to pick up her preschooler.  I reassured her that he was doing great, which he was, having a blast playing with my three kids, and he seemed happy as ever.  I also reassured her she is an amazing mother that sacrifices a lot and works tirelessly to provide a very good life for her little guy.  Did I mention she is also a divorced, single mom to boot?  Her job is hard and she executes it gracefully with strength, dignity, and an abundance of unconditional love.  He’s blessed to have such a mom, and I believe he knows it.

Later that night, after a day of near breakdown for feeling like I was labeled a bad mom, for losing my patience with my children, and all of the other fails, I sat down next to another mom in my small group.  During our prayer request time she shared how she was really struggling trying to balance a career, motherhood of two, and being a wife, along with her other responsibilities.  The demands of work plus preparation to get her children out the door, provide their meals, baths, clothing them, etc., were so consuming that she was feeling hopeless and guilty that she hasn’t been fully present during the few hours she has with her little ones in the evenings.  I sighed.  I had no real solution for her.  I’m barely keeping my own head above the waves most days.  Then, one of our wiser friends, who has raised four children and now has grandchildren, spoke up.  She reminded both of us, “It is hard, but it is only a season.”

It is only a season.  It is only a season my eyes will be bloodshot from lack of sleep and old contacts.  It is only a season I will have filthy floors and mountains of laundry because the only time I have to do them is in the middle of the night, and I usually choose sleep.  It is only a season I will chase my kids off the doctor’s seat and away from the light switch.  It is only a season I will walk through wet, sticky piles of who-knows-what throughout the day.  It is only a season I will fall asleep, exhausted, while rocking my two year old before her nap and bedtime.  It is only a season that my four year old will ask me to lay down and snuggle with him for just five more minutes.  It is only a season my seven year old will ask me to build Legos with him.

In a world of social media, where comparison of highlight reels is usually all we see, it can be easy to think “I’m the worst mom ever.  I’m doing this all wrong.  My children deserve better.”  And also, “She has it so much better.  Her job is easier than mine.  She has no idea how lucky she is.”

PLEASE. STOP .IT.   Parents, let’s spend more time laughing and smiling with our kids, in the midst of the chaos.  Moms, try to embrace the messy house, you actually have an excuse now, or several.  Women, let’s be real and transparent with one another, let’s share our struggles as much as our joys, and let’s start encouraging each other instead of competing with one another.  It is only a season.  There will be other seasons with new struggles and new joys.

Maybe all of that sounds too hard, but at the very least, if we all could learn to “hold ourselves to a standard of grace, not perfection” (Christine Caine), we might naturally smile more, embrace the beauty that surrounds us, and extend that grace to others.