MOTHER'S DAY: REFLECTIONS

 It's been no secret that as I've looked back over my life - especially now that all six of my children are grown, some with children of their own - that I feel a sense of regret that I had not done a better job as a mom. There are things I know now that I wish I had known back then.

I wish I had known that the most important skill a parent needs is patience. During infancy when the baby was waking every 2 hours round-the-clock, patience was needed, and I am pleased to say that I had it. Not that I wasn't exhausted; but nursing made it easy to snuggle up close to my baby and drift back to sleep as they nursed themselves into slumberous contentment. No, I'm talking about the patience that was required when I would hear, "Mom, I need to be wiped," for the millionth time - and always just as I sat down to eat or started a task. I'm talking about the patience that was required when the kids would say, "I spilled my milk," and the floor had just been washed. I'm thinking about my less-than-kind responses to the normal day-to-day occurrances that go along with having a house full of kids.

I wish I hadn't been in such a rush at the end of the day to get the kids in bed, but had instead read a few bedtime stories, cuddled a little bit longer, or simply looked into their eyes when saying goodnight.
I wish I had realized that a crabby child is often one who needs to be hugged - or put in water!! An unexpected tubby-time can eliminate the grumpies almost all of the time so much more effectively than a swat on the behind.

Speaking of swats: I regret ever hitting my children.

I wish I had realized who each of my children really were - and who they were destined to become, instead of just thinking of them collectively as "the kids."

I wish I had realized that one of my primary duties as a parent was to guide my children and that being a disciplinarian was way down on the list.

If only I had known that being a parent required that I relinquish a huge portion of myself for the sake of them, meaning, I wish I had spent less time talking on the phone, watching TV, or doing other self-indulging things, shushing them all the while. I'm am haunted by the echoes of my voice, "Shhh...go play. Be quiet. Go in your room." Instead, I wish I had hung up the phone, turned off the tv and said, "Come sit with me. Whatcha thinkin' about?"

So, on this Mother's Day Weekend, I want to tell my children, now adults, that I love them and that if I could do it all over again, knowing what I know now, things would be different. I would have been nicer, more patient, more loving. And I would have demanded the very best for them, insisting on a better neighborhood, a better school district, and better healthcare than we had. I would have simply been there, by their side, as a guide to the world, and I would have known then that my primary job as their mother was to help them become who they already were and who they were destined to be and I would have NEVER allowed my personal life to interfere with my relationship with them.

In the end, I wonder if my children had more patience with me than I had with them.


ADDENDUM: Upon further reflection, there is one other vital role that a mother must play. She must be her child's advocate. Each one of my children needed me to advocate for them and I failed. I needed to be their voice and to act on their behalf, even when it meant standing up to authority. A child's voice is so often hushed, or worse: not believed or validated. I wish now that I had stood up for my children when they had been assaulted (as a few of them had been). I wish I had been their representative when they needed more: more food, more medical intervention, more educational services, more love and acceptance. I wish I had reported the pastor's wife who had physically beat my son and ridiculed him in front of his peers when he was still just a preschooler. I wish I had insisted on proper medical care when I had a suicidal adolescent. I wish I had taken the steps necessary to ensure my children had a quality school to attend. And I wish that I had advocated on behalf of two of my daughters when they had been sexually abused. Instead, I was too broken, too scared, too weak, or too immature to be the caring, loving, assertive and even aggressive advocating adult they needed, and for these errors on my part, I will always feel deep regret, sadness, and shame.

Yes, there were times when I was a good mom; but sometimes my past errors cast deep shadows over the accomplishments.