There were the moms who were PTA presidents....
Girl Scout cookie moms....
Working moms who made enough cash to outsource the home stuff...
Baking moms...
Homeschooling moms...
The Lorelai Gilmore moms...
And I never seemed to be any of those. I was just as likely to forget to fill out a form for a field trip as I was to remember some obscure thing that was supposed to happen and do it up fantastically. It's hard not to second-guess yourself when you have two amazing humans depending on you to raise them. And I often find myself insecure in the role at a deep level. It's one that I really, really don't want to fail at.
Because I really, really, really love my kids. I'm proud of them. I love the people that they are. They are smart, kind, articulate and fun. They have courage. They love God. I somehow feel as if these amazing humans were on loan to me...as if I were a steward sent to keep them safe and cared for as they unfolded...whether they were 3....13...or 23.
I do know this. You can neither use your kids' accomplishments or mistakes as the measuring stick for your effectiveness. I've seen amazing moms weep over a child who got into drugs and I've seen train-wrecks of moms with children who achieved amazing things.
Still, I wish there was a template. Sometimes I guess we just create our own.
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