“You’re not the best mom, but you’re a pretty good one.”
Her twinkly brown eyes danced as she said it, and her missing front teeth made her all the more endearing as we sat on the couch together that regular Tuesday afternoon. I grabbed her and tickled her until that infectious giggle of hers came out.
I knew what she meant. She thinks I’m a great mom, but she knows I’m not perfect.
And that’s exactly what I’d like her to know about me.
I want her to see that her mama loves her to the moon and back, but she’s not flawless. I want her to know when she’s a mom and messes up, feels emotional, collapses in exhaustion, or is just plain sad — that she’s normal.
She’s seen her mom in all of those states, and I’m not ashamed of it.
When we show our humanness, our children benefit. Especially our girl children. The ones who may one day become mothers themselves.
They need to see our frailty. They need to see our dependence on Christ. They need to see that we hurt, reach our limit, and struggle with everyday life. Because we all do. Every last one of us.
And we can’t forget our sons. If all they see is a false perfect mama, if and when they become a father, they may believe wrongly that the mother of their own children is abnormal if she cannot “handle” life and mothering like their own mother appeared to.
Ouch. We don’t want that, now do we?
Authentic. Loving. Christ-seeking. Intentional. That’s the kind of mother our kids need. Perfection doesn’t make the list.
So I’m not the best mom, but I am a pretty good one. And so are you.
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