Honest Mama

I’m too busy to judge you and your parenting skills... 😊

Lemme tell you why I will never judge your parenting:

I’m too damn busy.

I’m too busy making mistakes and praying my kids turn out alright anyway.

I’m too busy looking at my musty smelling laundry pile and wondering if I should fold it or light it all on fire.

I’m too busy teaching my kids good work ethics which means saying “stop playing and keep cleaning” over and over until everyone is crying.

I’m too busy yelling that everyone needs to STOP YELLING and then wondering if I will ever be able to stop yelling. It’s not really looking good for any of us.

I’m too busy letting my three-year-old use a pacifier and my six-year-old wear Cinderella underwear as a bathing suit.

I’m too busy trying not to fight with my husband in front of the kids even though sometimes we make each other crazy (ESPECIALLY IN THE CAR). I say trying, because last week my three-year-old asked me why daddy and I sometimes argue like little kids.

I’m too busy wondering if that wet spot is from water, juice, or urine.

I’m too busy trying to assess if that Pterodactyl scream was a “we’re having fun” scream or a “blood has been shed” scream.

I’m too busy making risky calls like should I let my son wear that shirt with spaghetti sauce on it to church, and do I tell my girls that it’s actually a “vagina” not a “bagina”, even though bagina is way more awesome?

I’m too damn busy apologizing to my kids. I’m apologizing for misunderstanding them, for getting grumpy, for bumping their head on a doorway, for not believing them that their tummy hurt until they projectile vomited, and for throwing away that ginormous popsicle stick art project they brought home from school.

I’m too busy apologizing FOR my kids, like, “sorry they ate all your snacks and asked you if there’s a baby in your belly”.

I’m too busy being overwhelmed by the fact that it’s already dinner time AGAIN and the food is still at the grocery store.

I’m too busy because this parenting gig is flying by at lightning speed and I’m hanging on for dear life, hoping that when it’s over they will look back and say "we were loved".

I’m not going to judge your parenting because IT’S HARD and YOU are the qualified one.

I’m not qualified because I don’t worry about your kids like you do. I don’t lie awake at night wrestling with decisions about schools, and friends, and behaviors, and obstacles in their precious lives. I don’t love them, ache for them, feed them, or say sorry to them like you do. I don’t know them. I don’t know their dreams or what makes them tick.

I’m eleven years in and I am now more certain than ever that there isn’t “one way” to do this well. I’m just trying to figure out how to parent my own kids and how many margaritas I can have without getting a hangover. Life is complicated.

If we can’t be real and share the struggle, then it just doesn’t work for me.

I’m a fan of all MOMS.

I’m too damn busy for anything else.

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Follow Wonderoak by Jess Johnston for more real, raw, and funny.

Anyone else feel like this mom was in their head?

God: How do you think you’re doing as a mom?

Mom: Well I don’t play with my kids as much as I should. I get grumpy. Yesterday they ate pizza for the second time this week. I don’t really like cooking together or crafts, but I wish I did. Sometimes I do it anyway, but mostly I’m just trying not to get annoyed. My house is like one giant clothes and crumb explosion. I really should have them keep their rooms cleaner, but sometimes I just don’t want to pick another battle. I’m not really sure when the last time my second son bathed was. That’s probably not good. Yesterday I snapped over a cliff bar wrapper that no one was cleaning up. Sometimes I worry because they bicker a lot, like is that my fault? Did I do something wrong? At night I’m so tired I fall into the couch and watch shows and eat snacks until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. When I lay in bed I find myself wondering if they all are brushing their teeth well enough. I’m too hard on the oldest and too lenient with the youngest. I love our dinnertime discussions and I just can’t get enough of their laughs and the way they tell stories. Sometimes when they’re talking though I’m not really listening I’m worrying about something completely different, I think they can tell. I wonder all the time if I’m doing a good job and if they know how much I love them.

God: Do you love them?

Mom: With my whole entire heart.

God: You sound wonderful.

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