Momma, You Are Enough

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Here’s another post about why moms feel we aren’t good enough, but I’m not going to talk about societal pressures, or the mental load, or the comparison trap we find ourselves in occasionally. Instead, I’m going to talk about the day-to-day happenings that leave us questioning our worth. 

Listen, humor is a great coping mechanism. I am often making jokes- or have bouts of uncontrollable nervous laughter- at inappropriate times with the best of them. And, I do think the jokes about “why my toddler is screaming at me” scenarios like using the wrong plate or preventing them from sticking a fork in the electrical socket are funny, there is an obvious hidden nugget there. 

Moms (and dads too, of course) get to experience full on meltdowns all day long. They come on quickly, and without warning. What worked yesterday, won’t necessarily work today. Or tomorrow. 

These meltdowns are caused by a wide range of events, from the trivial to the less trivial. 

How, as a parent, are we not meant to internalize these unwitting mishaps as failures, when we encounter them all day every day? 

Have something fun planned? 

That’s great, but it won’t be the right fun. Or it will be the wrong time, or xyz. (Kids are creative in their reasoning). 

Kid 2 got the blue plate instead of Kid 1, because Kid 1 always gets the blue plate and Kid 2 asked for the blue plate today?

Well, buckle up buttercup, cause you’re in for a wild ride. That lesson on sharing, that you don’t always get what you want, and the other valuable lessons you are trying to teach that resulted in that huge fit? Well….just what were you thinking, momma? 

And on it goes. 

And it doesn’t just stop with the kids. 

Didn’t get the chores done?

You’ve already spent the day being challenged and internalizing the fact that nothing you do is right in the eyes of your kids, now to be faced with the knowledge that you are letting your partner down, because they get home from working all day, see the mess, and perhaps they don’t say anything, but you know they are upset. (They probably aren’t, fyi).

And then, the sound of them helping do those dishes that you are beating yourself up for not getting to yet is just another internal validation that you failed. And then you run through everything you have done today, but you should have been able to get those dishes done, because… well… because you feel they are your responsibility. 

Decide you want to create something for yourself that also helps your family, so you start your own business, whether you sign up for a dreaded MLM *gasp* or create your own online business from the ground up in the pockets of free time? *double gasp* 

You see snide and snarky comments online because *ew*, you wanted to make some extra money and you chose to do it that way? *eye roll*

You’re working your biz, but your friends and family don’t even support you… and even in this, your decisions are being questioned.

You aren’t having the same success that other moms seem to be able to find doing the same exact thing you are doing? 

Chalk.it.up. and add it to the list.

All day, every day, we are faced with everything making us question our worth. We doubt ourselves, and tell ourselves things like, “why bother, nothing I ever do is good enough.” 

We tell ourselves the fact we aren’t able to get it all done without help is a sign of our weakness- our perceived inability to do our jobs. 

Instead of finding the validation we crave that we’re doing a good job, we tell ourselves it validates that we aren’t even able to do something as simple as pick the right plate, sweep the floor, or pay for the activities you’d love to do with your kids. 

Day after day. 

Momma, if that’s you, I wish I had something more helpful than these reminders. 

You ARE enough. You DO enough. Your LOVE is enough. You are not failing, even when it seems like every time you turn around, something is telling you that you are.

You are doing a great job, momma. Your loved ones see it, even if they don’t always tell you, or show you, in the way that you need.

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