Being Good Enough

I listen to a lot of podcasts. I basically think that podcasts are the stuff. They feel like a missing link to the outside world of adult thought and connect me to ideas and concepts and fandoms that give me an opportunity to engage thoughtfully in varied subject matter that I otherwise wouldn't have the chance to encounter in the daily repartee of wiping bums and noses. And faces. And counters. And floors. I'm actually starting to realize that maybe motherhood is actually just mostly wiping things.

If you're looking for a good podcast, chances are that I'll have several suggestions lined up and ready to go. And if you're looking for a good podcast on motherhood; boy howdy...you might wanna sit down because there's quite the list. I was recently introduced to a podcast done by one of my favorite mommy blogs, Bold New Mom and she basically speaks my soul.

Listening to her podcast has kind of been like having a therapist that I don't have to pay (and all the poor college students said hallelujah) or put pants on to talk to, but who just so happens to answer all of my questions and solve all of my problems. It's magical.

(That was a joke. I wear pants in my house)

(That disclaimer felt necessary)

ANYwhooo...if you're in the market for a good, relaxing podcast on momming, I highly recommend this one.

The point of this entire debacle is that I was listening to her the other day while doing dishes and she said something that kind of blew my mind. It was probably mostly in the way she framed it, because I think I've known this subconsciously, but have never been able to put it in words. She said that moms sometimes get hyper-focused on being the 'perfect' mom (which, btw, doesn't actually exist), when really all we need to be is a 'good enough' mom. Uh. Light bulb. Of COURSE being good enough is good enough! Duh. Why did I never put that together?

I mean, obviously I know that a perfect mom doesn't actually exist (even though I sometimes forget that when I'm scrolling through Instagram and watching everyone's highlight reels and wondering why I never have time to restore furniture and resell it for a profit or just keep it and decorate my house to look like the display window at pottery barn or why I can't feed my children a vegan meal made from mermaid tears and universe juice and have them all eat it happily in matching cream sweaters at my recently hand-built farm table) but somewhere down the line, my mind went 'I know there's no such thing as a perfect mom, but there is a perfect mom for MY kids and I need to find a way to be her'.

So I'd read parenting book after parenting book and balk at the horrors that are the millions of ways I'm messing my children up for life because I didn't realize the type of love they needed, and I'd pray to stay patient with the four-year-old and feel like a failure when I'd snap, and I'd cringe at myself for making mac and cheese for the third time that week, and I'd get a lump in my throat when I didn't squeeze 'special one-on-one time' in to our jam-packed day, and I'd fight back the mommy guilt for realizing I hadn't done a single, solitary craft with my kids all summer, and I'd want to take a long walk off a short pier when I looked around and realized that the folded laundry was sitting on the back of the couch for the eighteenth day in a row and my kids had no PJs in their drawers. 

But no, no, of course there's no pressure to be a 'perfect mom' because everyone knows she isn't real.

The reality is that we all have our own ideas of what a 'perfect mom' looks like. And sometimes it seems so attainable. Like, she doesn't yell. Or she can always find a balance between chores and children. Or she is consistent in her parenting. Or she reads 20 minutes a day to her kids. Or she cooks with them without having a panic-attack.

All of those things seem so simple. They seem like realistic, attainable goals. So when we fail to meet ALL OF THEM ALL OF THE TIME, or just any of them ever, we feel like we've failed.

But darn it, we are good. enough.

My kids are alive. Fed. Clothed. Played with. Paid attention to. Loved to pieces. Snuggled. Read to. Usually wearing clean clothing (barring that time I forgot to pack a change of clothing for our over-nighter to Bryce canyon and the boys got covered in red mud and treats from Nana the day before aaaaand had to wear all that stuff the next day, too) They're learning how to contribute to the world. They're learning to sit still. They have all their shots and go to the dentist and sometimes even get pretty swanky hair-do's before we go into public because if I don't do it, they'll use words like "raggamuffin"to describe their own appearance. See? They learn!

I'm good enough.

I'm good enough when I have a cold and can only muster enough energy to hit 'play' on the remote. I'm good enough when I just CANNOT with the fighting anymore and have them go and sit in their beds until they can figure stuff out on their own. I'm good enough when I'm doing the best I can with my kids. I'm good enough when I don't do my best and I recognize that and instead of feeling hopeless, I try and fix it.

Be a good enough mom, or dad, or person. Just be good enough. And maybe also extend that grace to others by assuming that they're just trying to be 'good enough', too.

Well. Off to wipe another bum!

...wish me luck.