We moms beat ourselves up. 

Far too often. 

I was just talking with a friend the other day, who said that she has to remind herself that she is a great mom.  Because it is so easy to second-guess every decision that she makes. 

Indeed, it is.  And we beat ourselves up for every mistake we make as well.

The problem with that is, we will make a lot of mistakes throughout our parenting years. 😂 🤣  And some mistakes will be more harmful than others.

But when we fail, we are horrible to ourselves.  We hate ourselves. We feel guilty for our decisions and actions, and we are horrified at how we behaved or handled ourselves.  We would never let another human being treat our children the way we just did.

It isn’t pretty. 

But the truth is, even when we fail, we are still good parents. Even when we make one horrid mistake after another, we are still wonderful moms.

And even when the world comes crashing down around us, we will still raise amazing young men and women.

Because children are resilient.  They can overcome insurmountable odds. 

And you’d have to be a down-right awful, horribly abusive mom to really mess your kids up.

And you’re not. 

As long as your child has your never-ending unconditional love, and you show it to him often, then he has everything he needs to become everything he was meant to be.

And we moms are armed with a never-ending supply of that love.  It is the one thing we were all given, when our babies were born.  We love our children more fiercely than we ever thought it was possible to love another human being.

I Don’t Remember a Lot From the ‘Dark Years’

When I brought the twins home from the hospital, I couldn’t tell them apart.  😂 🤣 I laugh now, because they are fraternal twins – they are not at all identical. 

I had heard of moms putting fingernail polish on their twins so that they could tell them apart.  But mine were boys, and although I did consider it, I didn’t think their father would appreciate it.

What I did do, however, was keep them wrapped up in their own colored blankets.  And that is how I was able to tell them apart, for their first month of life. 

They looked very similar, but after I got to know them, I could see their unique differences.  I could soon tell them apart without their blankets.

What I didn’t know then was that this one tiny little issue was just the beginning of many years of utter chaos.

I Always Believed I was a Good Mom

But I doubted my ability to parent those first two years after the twins were born.

I am a good mom.  I am used to people telling me how I am such.a.good.mom.  It became part of my identity – part of who I was.  And I worked hard to live up to the expectations of what a good mom does.

I had the professional background of a good mom – I was a social worker.  I spent years studying psychology, counseling, parenting, building relationships, and communication.  Over the years, I used these skills, not only in my career but also in raising my boys.  And as far as I could tell, it was working.

So, when I was told I was having twins, I wasn’t too worried. 

Even though I was already desperately sleep-deprived (I had a one year old who just didn’t think sleep was necessary), I just thought, “Yeah.  I got this.”

After all, I already had four boys.  I used to run a daycare, so I’ve handled far more than just four children at once.  I also worked in a preschool classroom – one room, full of 13 four-year-olds. And I facilitated social skills groups, full of children. 

Yup.  I got this.

Right….  😂 🤣

I don’t remember much, from those first few years.  I walked around in a fog for the majority of that time. 

The Good, the Bad, and the UGLY

But I do remember the first time both babies cried at the same time.  And I was home alone with them.  I am only one person and I didn’t know who to comfort first!!  They both desperately needed me!

I remember sitting on the couch literally.all.day, as I nursed first one baby, and then the next, while my two-year-old looked outside longingly, wanting to play – and wanting someone to play with him.

I remember getting angry and frustrated when he would bounce his ball – right by their bedroom door. Right.after.I.got.them.to.sleep.  They’d wake up and I’d have to start all over.  Making it take that much longer before I could finally play with him.

I remember falling asleep with a baby in my arms, and my husband waking me up in the middle of the night, only to switch babies and do it all again.  I remember barely keeping my eyes open during the day, and I remember vaguely being aware of my big boys, leaving the house in the morning, for school.

I was a bad mom

I didn’t get them up for school, I didn’t see them off.  I have no idea how they got fed, or what clothes they found to wear.  I don’t know what assignments were due, and when, or where they were going to be that evening.

I remember my oldest was crowned prince at homecoming – and I couldn’t pull it together enough to make it. 

I don’t remember why exactly.  I just remember that it killed me. And that another mom – bless her heart – took a picture and sent it to me.

It was the first time I had ever missed one of my children’s events.

I remember sitting on my new living room floor, bawling, because we had just moved, and I had so much to do, and no one was able to help me.  Things needed unpacking, stuff needed cleaning, and walls needed painting.

I was all alone, and I had three little boys needing me all day long.

I remember yelling at my husband.  A lot. Constantly, actually.  For no reason.  Looking back, I was just exhausted. And he was way too willing to let me take it out on him.

I remember crying in the shower because I just wanted a minute alone. 

I also remember crying in the shower because I was pretty sure my husband hated me.

I remember getting annoyed when he wanted to give me a hug, tickle me, or touch my arm as he walked by.  😂 🤣  It’s funny now, but it wasn’t back then.  “Stop touching me!” I’d say.

Why was everyone always touching me, hanging on me, and climbing on me?  🙄

The emotions that flew through me, within me, and all around me that first year (or two) were random, raw, and totally unexplained. 

I Was Exhausted and My Hormones Were Out of Whack

I lacked the patience I once had.  I certainly did not possess any of the skills I was so proud of.  And the simplest, most basic parenting acts were so.incredibly.hard for me.

I remember filming the twins crying. They were sick and wanted comfort.  Not only did I just not have it in me anymore, but I also didn’t know who to comfort first, and I couldn’t choose.  Choosing one over the other felt like an act of betrayal. So, I filmed them and sent it to my mom.

She came over when she got off of work.

One day, it literally took me all day to peel the potatoes that were supposed to go into the crock pot in the morning. This very kind nurse gave me a recipe for scalloped potatoes while I was in the hospital. 

“It’ll help you get supper on the table,” she had said.  Because the potatoes could cook in the crock pot all day.

My family ate them. They were hard, almost raw, really, but not quite.  No one said a word.

They either love me that much, or they were just that grateful to have something to eat.  It’s hard to tell.

I remember pacing the floors like every mom does.  Not once, not twice, but many, many times a night. Because once I got one child back to sleep, another woke.

I remember hating my husband for the snoring coming from our bedroom.  He had to get up and work in the morning, so I would start the night out promising myself that this time, I’d let him sleep. 

But I never followed through with that.

He’d be up, pacing the floors with me, as we comforted screaming child after screaming child.

I showed up at my 20^th high school reunion. 

It was one of the very few times I made it out of the house that first year, child-free.  The twins were almost one, and my oldest was babysitting for me. 

They asked me how it was going.  I told them I had trimmed my toenails for the occasion.  They laughed, but I was dead serious.

I Was a Shadow of My Former Self

I gave up many things that first year – trimming my toenails, drinking hot coffee, eating a warm meal, showering on a daily basis, flossing, and peeing alone.

I never saw my friends and I hated going out into public.  I literally forgot how to properly talk to other people.  And I hid behind the ‘busyness’ of my children because I didn’t know how to be social anymore.

If you’ve hung around Making Mommas (or me, for that matter) for a while now, then you know that my husband and I refer to these years as “The Dark Years”.  If there ever was going to be a test on our marriage, this was it.

Raising twins, alongside a two-year-old, with three older boys, was by far the hardest thing we had ever done.  We were walking zombies; sleep-deprived and left for dead.

We were impatient with the kids, crabby at each other, and pretty much hated the world.  Because everyone else had it so much easier than us.  😂 🤣

It sounds horrible.  I sound horrible, I know.  I sound like an ungrateful, spoiled little child.

But I Would Do it All Again

Because, in reality, I got exactly what I always wanted – a large family, a husband who adored me, and the chance to stay home with my babies.  I couldn’t ask for more.

When I was a little girl, I remember telling my stepmom that I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom.  Her answer was surprising: “Hold on to that dream.”

It didn’t seem so hard to me, really, to be a stay-at-home mom.

(Of course, I also had wanted to be a writer and a veterinarian.  😂 🤣)

What I didn’t know then was the pull that came with mommyhood – to work, or to stay home? 

That is the question.

To Stay Home…or Not to Stay Home…

To have a career, or to spend every precious moment with our babies?

I also didn’t know how incredibly hard it was to be a stay-at-home mom.

I stayed home when my oldest was born.  I just couldn’t bear to leave him during the day.  He was so sweet and so tiny!! And I didn’t trust anyone else to give him the love and care that I could give him.

Staying home with him was easy. It was just one child. And he was an incredibly good baby.  He slept a lot. So, at first, I filled the days with cleaning, cooking, and scrapbooking – all things I loved to do.

But as the newness of that wore off, and the chore of entertaining a toddler all day took effect, life became boring. The days were long.  I’d watch the clock and couldn’t wait for daddy to come home.

I remember thinking it would be like that again, with the twins.  I prepared myself for long, boring days at home with the boys.

What I got was a crazy, chaotic mess.

And now that they are all in school, and I am sitting in the quiet, at my desk, typing this all out, and looking at their picture, you may wonder…. Would I go back and do it all again?

Yes.

In a heartbeat.

I’d Live Fully Present, in Each and Every Moment

But this time, I wouldn’t care if I never peed alone.  Or showered. 

I wouldn’t care if I tossed some food on the table at the end of the day.

And I certainly wouldn’t care if I never set foot in my bed for that first year.  I’d gladly fall asleep with a baby in my lap at the end of the day.

I’d sit on the couch and nurse all day long if I could.  And I’d wrap those little sweethearts up and venture outside so that I could play with my two-year-old in the sandbox.

I’d know that of course, my husband loves me!

And my big boys adore me.

I wouldn’t worry about the mess or the kind of mom I am.

Because I’d be too busy loving every.single.moment.of.it.  The crazies and all.

I’d Savor Every Bit of it, and Cherish Those Years

And when the babies cried?  No biggie.  I’d understand that it wasn’t a life-or-death situation – it wasn’t something that I had to stop immediately.  I would know that it was just them, expressing themselves in the only way that they know how.

I regret a lot about how I handled those first two years.  And I’d take a do-over in a heartbeat. 

But I’m not a bad mom. 

Messing up doesn’t make me a bad mom.  And having a crazy life for a few years doesn’t make me a bad mom.

And it doesn’t make you a bad mom, either.

It makes me a mom who gave it her all.  Who faced the reality of twins head-on.  I hit that floor running, even when I didn’t know which basket I was supposed to be aiming at.

And what I went through those first two years made me a better, stronger mom.  It made me a more resilient person.

And it made me more compassionate to all of the struggles every mom faces. 

See, you are here because you are having a hard time managing your days at home.  I know it, because I was there too.

We Do the Best We Can, With What We Have

But there are other moms, out there, with entirely different struggles. And we may not see them.  They may keep them hidden. 

Because every mom struggles with something.  Me and you?  Ours is our days at home.  Other moms might have children with special needs, physical ailments, or absent fathers. 

Some are living in poverty. Some are trying to be too much, and do too much, for far too many people.  And some moms have their own personal issues and challenges that really make parenting hard.

All of these moms have the pressures of being a ‘good mom’. And maybe they are trying to convince the world that they are good moms, even if they don’t fully believe it themselves.

But we are all good moms.  The Hot Messes, the Walking Dead, and every mom in between.

Inpatient, unhappy, sad, ecstatic, through the roof, just a little bit crazy…. We are all good moms.

And we don’t need to convince anyone of that.  We don’t need to prove it to ourselves.

And we don’t need to beat ourselves up for all of the mistakes we make.

Because we already have everything that we need to be a good mom.  It was given to us the day our precious little bundle was born.

It is unconditional love, Momma.

You have that, and you are a good mom. 

All Kinds of Luv & Stuff,

From My Fam to Yours

~Shannon