I sat in my rocking chair this morning holding a sleeping baby when my sweet husband kissed the top of my head and as he left for work he said, "I love you and I appreciate all you do." All I do? I sat and thought about that for awhile.
For those of you who know me and have read my blog for awhile, you know that I cherish motherhood above all else. There is NOTHING I would rather do than be a mother to my sweet boys. However, those of you who really know me know that I tend to be hard on myself. You would know how inadequate I feel and how I set unrealistic expectations for myself. Perhaps you could call me the "Clark Griswold" of motherhood.
See, I grew up with the Bionic Woman as my mother. I have watched her tow cars, install toilets, mow the lawn, and scrub her house. I have then watched her graciously attend black tie events, travel the world, serve in church callings and care for her parents, children and neighbors. Really, there is nothing my mother can't do. In fact, if I do something particularly amazing Jason will often say, "Wow! That was Cindy-status!" It is the supreme compliment to me.
Today as Jason told me how he appreciates me, I couldn't help but think about how I can't meet up to my own expectations. I know all women feel this way at times . . . so I think many of you may understand. I hope . . .
When I was pregnant with Gavin I had a vision of how I expected things to be. Well, that didn't go the way I anticipated AT ALL and so when I found out I was pregnant with Jack, I revamped my thoughts on motherhood. Hopefully they were more concrete and meaningful. Still with all the appreciation and gratitude in my heart for Jack, I still had expectations for myself that I can't seem to meet.
I expected that I would have a sparkling clean home, dinner on the table every night and showered in the morning. I thought that I could make it to the gym every day and play tennis with my mother once a week. I thought I would be able to catch up on my scrapbook and organize my home videos. I thought we would go out with friends every Saturday night and that our baby would be so good he could just come along. I thought I would spend hours in the rocking chair with at baby who loved to cuddle as much as I wanted to cuddle him. It just hasn't gone that way . . .
Please don't misunderstand my criticism on myself as being ungrateful. Grateful doesn't even seem to fit the way I feel - it's more like supreme gratitude. I have a healthy baby who has made it here to stay with us. I can't ask for more than that. Now, I just have to accept my feeble attempts of being a mother and wife to my three amazing boys. I may not be the ideal mother and wife, but I am trying hard. I guess I am striving for progress.