I have a confession to make.
Your mother is not perfect. You may have suspected that.
Some days I look at you, watch you play and my eyes well up. You are beautiful. You are mine. And I feel gratified and satiated with adoration. I want to stop time and soak up each and every moment of your sweet innocence, your unworldliness, your childishness. Sometimes I feel like you are growing up too fast and I am running out of time. I know you have so much ahead of you. Gone are the precious baby years. They seem light years away already even though they only happened yesterday. As I watch you, I get this feeling of melancholy. Stop growing up so fast already. I need you to be little, I need you to be my babies for a little while longer. I am not going to lie. You wear me out. You tire me out. Mothering is hard. But despite that am I enjoying all that motherhood has to offer?
Have I embraced each moment fully? Tackled each challenge that motherhood has thrown my way to the best of my ability? Have I done right by you? Have I been the best mother I can be?
Hesitation and a hint of misgiving creep in every time I ask myself those questions.
I am humble. And sometimes I am uncertain of my abilities. To be blessed with four such beautiful souls is more than I could have ever wished for. I am no Pro at this child rearing malarchy. And sometimes I struggle.
I struggle for answers and when facing a parenting crossroad I don’t always know which path to choose. I struggle with patience when you all demand a piece of me at the same time. At times, I struggle with giving you all the attention you want. I struggle with being tired 9 days out of 10. I struggle with needing a little space when all you need is being held and cuddled.
I want to do right by you. I want to safeguard you, guide you and nurture you and show you how to always find that beautiful thing called happiness that lives inside you.
Sometimes I disappoint you. I know that. Sometimes I disappoint myself.
Sometimes I have a short fuse and not enough patience for your never-ending questions. And I am sorry.
Sometimes I am too tired to play the games you want to play and I hide behind my phone instead. I am sorry.
Sometimes I am distracted and you have to call my name many times before I respond. I am sorry.
Sometimes I am just in a world of my own. I am sorry.
Sometimes I don’t have the patience to figure out why you are bickering and fighting. I am sorry.
Sometimes I have to deal with adult stuff that you are too young to grasp. My own demons.
When you are gone to bed and I miss you, I reflect on my day as a mother. Some nights I get sad that I didn’t respond to you differently or that I didn’t play the game with you.
And I beat myself up.
I wish I could hide my own limitations from you.
Some days I forget to smile and to laugh. And I forget to be fun. I’m working on that. I want you to know that I am working on being a better mother.
Every day I want to do better than the last and keep the focus on my blessings rather than on my struggles. And I make up for my failings on other days, in other moments: when I sweep you up off the ground for a big impromptu Mama cuddle and I hold you as tight as I can. And I am in that moment just with you and you alone. When I lift up the duvet for you to crawl under in the early hours of the morning. When I whisk you away spontaneously to see that movie in the cinema and we sit there with a big bag of sweets and hold hands. I am right there with you and it’s just us. When I braid your hair and your face lights up in delight. When I make pancakes first thing in the morning because I know they are your favorite. When we spend the morning colouring and chatting and laughing. I am right here with you loving each second of being your mother. And I am right here with you and with you only.
And if you are ever in doubt, know this:
You are my pride and joy.
I am the lucky one.
I will never stop trying.
I will never stop working on myself.
Nothing is set in stone.
Except one thing.
THAT I LOVE YOU.
Keep calling my name until I turn to see your beautiful face.
Keep writing me little notes telling me that you love me, too.
Keep making me proud.
Keep looking at me with your infectious smiles.
Keep bringing out the silly in me.
Keep inspiring me and challenge me.
If no one will fight your corner, know that I will.
Keep tugging at my sleeves asking me to play that game.
Keep tugging at my heartstrings.
BECAUSE YOU ARE MY HEARTBEATS.