Anyone who knows me even the least little bit knows that I’m quite open and honest about my failings as a parent. The list is long. Embarrassingly long. Nothing about parenting has come naturally to me and I have not enjoyed much of it (ouch, I know-please hold your rotten fruit).
What makes it even worse is that our kids are genuinely great. I’ve often felt that they deserve a mom who can do more of the right stuff (whatever the right stuff is . . . I’m still working on figuring that out). But I had an experience on Sunday night that gave the lame-Mom in me a little glimmer of hope.
Something happened Sunday after church that made me very sad-soul-crushing sad. I know it’s cryptic to not explain what it was, but it’s private and my emotions are still pretty raw and that’s not what this post is about, so I’m sticking with cryptic. I got into the car after church and everyone was chattering about this or that. The car got really quiet when the kids and Brent heard me stifling my sobs. They asked what was wrong, so I told them. It was awkward. The kids didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know how to react. I felt like I should shield them from my pain, but I just couldn’t do it. It was there and that was that.
We ate lunch (Mexican, my favorite!) and I cried off and on during the meal. We came home and I cried again. The kids were thinking I was off my rocker, I’m sure. We watched the movie Ghost-the kids liked it, but had to make fun of the terrible special effects and the weirdness of the scene at the end where Sam (Patrick Swayze) jumps into Oda Mae Brown’s (Whoopi Goldberg’s) body and slow dances with Molly (Demi Moore). But it was a fun night.
The kids got their PJs on and I went in to read to them (a nightly ritual). So I started reading Ramona the Pest. 
Ramona and Howie were drawing a picture for their teacher, Miss Binney. And without warning, my voice started to quaver-again. Marin said, “Mom, what’s wrong?” and I said “Nothing. Just give me a minute and I’ll see if I can start reading again.” I waited a few seconds and then started reading again, but I stopped after two or three words.
Stuart grabbed his “sweaty” (my crummy Old Navy Christmas sweatshirt that Stuart co-opted about 5 years ago because he said it smelled like me) and put his head in the crook of my shoulder and slung one arm over my waist. Marin offered to take over the reading for me. So my beautiful 11-year-old read Ramona the Pest to me and Stuart. She even did awesome voices, paused in all the right places, and had great comedic timing! After a few pages, she said, “I think that’s enough. We’d better get to bed.” They both gave me unusually big hugs. My no-longer-little 8-year-old put his arms around my waist and said, “Mom, it’s gonna be okay. I love you.” Marin hugged me also and then got up on her tip toes and kissed my forehead.
I walked down the hallway to say goodnight to Kennedy (my 14-year-old with whom I’m in the throes of some typical mom-teenage daughter life drama). She said, “Oh, mom! You’re crying-still?? I mean, ‘again’?” I chuckled and said, “Yeah, I’m crying again.” She crawled down from her loft bed and bent down to hug me-she’s taller than me now by 2.5 inches. She squeezed me tightly and said, “Mom, I’m sorry you’re feeling so sad. I love you.” And then, when I pulled away, she pulled me back in for another squeeze.
And then, lastly, Marin sent me a text that said, “I am sorry about what happened at church today. I love you!”
And I thought, Wow. My list of mom/parental failures is mighty long, but I can’t have blown it on every front. Those kids didn’t come out of my womb knowing how to comfort someone who’s sad. Oh, sure-their dad’s a great guy as well, so I’m not taking all the credit.
But I’ll take some of it.
I was humbled tonight to be the recipient of genuine comfort from my children. And I was reminded of one of my favorite Mormon scriptures that’s found in Mosiah 18:8-9 (in the Book of Mormon):
” . . . And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life-“
*Edited to add: About an hour after I thought they were in bed, Stuart got up and said he couldn’t sleep because he was spooked about ghosts after having watched that movie. I walked back to his room with him and tucked him in, kissed his head, and said, “I love you, buddy.”
He smiled and said, “Ditto.”
I love these stories, Heather. The truth is we all feel like crappy parents, and sometimes, too frequently, we’re even right. But watching our kids do the right thing goes a long way to salve the conscience.
Sorry about Sunday.
Beautiful post, it sounds like you are doing the most important things right. The scriptures you quoted are my favorite in the Book of Mormon.
You sell yourself short Heather. I LOVE being around you. You have lifted my spirits many times with your sense of humor. I am so grateful you are my friend. I love your kiddos too. Brent is a good dad also. Thank you for touching my life for the good.
Your kids sound wonderful, Heather, and no matter where they learned it, that scene you shared reflects good things about you. You don’t have to be a flawless parent to be a good one, and I think talking with your kids about your failings will fix almost any problems they might cause. Kids can understand imperfection in good people, as long as they’re shown it honestly–when they think someone’s perfect and find out much later that they’re not, that’s when you have problems.
I’m sorry about whatever happened, too, and I hope you’re feeling better about it soon.
I love that your children have this relationship to you. I love that you can show this vulnerability to them, and they know how to respond. Like all of the posts about your family, I can tell you’re doing something right. Want to help me raise my toddler son to be like your kids?
Seriously, though, I’m crying. Love this post.
Geez, you gotta warn me which posts not to read at work. Now, here I am at my computer crying.
(((Heather)))
What a terrible Sunday! It is one thing to leave bored, depressed or angry. That’s almost normal. But, quite another to get hurt– deeply. Church isn’t supposed to be like that. That sucks! I think it is great that you told your kids what happened. It saves them from worry and mystery and obviously they are very emotionally intelligent. Kids don’t learn that stuff on their own. I think shielding them too much can cause more damage that good.
And you are obviously a perfectionist. I knew being Mother wouldn’t be easy, but no one told me it would kick my butt daily. And I also thought that I would be good at it, or at least get good at it. But, like many other moms I go to bed wondering what I could have done differently to be better and get everything done that I had intended to do. Keep your chin up. You are no average Mommy. And you wouldn’t want to be anything like those stereotypes anyway. You are wonderful. And good luck healing.
Lovely post, Heather. You are a lovely person, so of course your glimmer is going to rub off on those wonderful kids.
I’m sorry about Sunday. I hope you are having a better week.
Heather, this is a beautiful and tragic post. I love your writing.
I love this post, Heather! I’m so impressed with your kids, and I love how this experience shows their relationship with you. Kudos to you and Brent both for raising such great kids.
(And I hope things get better on the church front for you.)
Lovely! I’m sorry for your pain, but happy for your family being there for you to pick you up.
You should take some credit. I know I don’t know you, but from the various posts I’ve read that you wrote, I just cannot believe that you’re the “bad mom” you make yourself out to be. That’s unless we’re still thinking that good moms are only those who clean the house all day, do crafts for their kids/with their kids, and all that other weird stuff that doesn’t necessarily or actually have anything to do with a meaningful influence on other human beings. :)
Anyway, this story gives me hope that maybe my kids will turn out ok as well, regardless of me thinking that I suck at what I do…
Thanks, Fran.
Yes–I suppose I’ve done okay on some fronts. ;) My kids are pretty great.
I think any real parent is teared up by the end of this. What a beautiful story.
P.S. I should say that I love that scripture from Mosiah as well. I always thought that this was such a succinct way of summing up what I thought my baptism covenant was about. Of course, at the same time I feel that a lot of us miss that aspect of our covenants rather frequently – the whole mourning with others, trying to lift them up, making their burdens light etc. instead of making other peoples lives a living hell by making sure we shove down their throats how they’re not living up to all the covenants they’ve made etc. (oh wait, that just sounded so familiar…didn’t some guy say that stuff in the temple?…hmmmmm).
http://www.reachout-and-touch.com/