Why I'm Giving up on Being the Perfect Mother

I don’t usually involve myself in posts that could be controversial. First, I really struggle with the comparison game, myself, and elevating one philosophy of mothering over another can easily turn into harsh slung words over who is right or what ideas carry the greatest weight. Secondly, ain’t no busy momma got time for that!

But this topic is near and dear to my heart and is one I have long struggled and labored over. Yet, in writing this, please don’t feel I’m pushing an agenda or saying this way of thinking is best for everyone. I just want to share my heart on one topic I’ve wrangled with and seen the effects play out in my sons.

The perfect mother. It’s something we all have strained toward. We research what it looks like, what it feels like, what it sounds like – we seek the ethereal example of motherhood perfected. If it requires a new gadget, we invest in it. A change of thought, we conform. A habit, an effort, a fruit of the Spirit, we model our life after actions that may lead us to a closer ideal.

I’ve read blogs – leave the house dirty, hug your little ones, the time passes quickly – be slow, be intentional, stop saying no, order is the way, schedule, free play, make lists, organize, relax, take you time, discipline, give grace. And each time I walk away feeling a little more of a failure in my motherhood – like somehow I don’t measure up. So I set the bar higher, leaning and stretching to attain some form of perfection in my parenting. And I’ve grown weary. Weary of trying and failing. Weary of what forever seems impossible, but unable to break out of the relentless cycle of pursuing perfection.

Here’s the problem: I can’t do it. And I will never be able to do it.

Now if I said that’s the reason I’m giving up, this blog post would be over, but there’s more to it than that. My struggle toward perfection is strangling my motherhood. Here’s what I’ve discovered:

First, when my focus and my goal is that of my own idea of perfection and I fail, who am I failing? Namely, myself, my own ideas and desires. And if I’m failing myself, what is my response? Well, guess I better try harder next time. And you know what I miss? I miss how my failure in that moment may be affecting one of my sons. When my eyes are fixed on my own goals and motives, I miss the dynamic bigger picture of how my impatience or my harsh words may be breaking my boy’s heart. I don’t sense the need to apologize for anything because the offense was against my own goal – not against anyone else.

Second, when I set perfection as the standard for myself, I am inadvertently setting the standard at perfection for my sons. If I am not allowed to fail, then neither are they. What is this teaching them about grace but that there’s no need for it? If failure is not an option (and Lord knows how often we mess up), then am I communicating that they will never be enough? Never measure up? When I don’t give myself room to fail, my sons don’t see my need for grace. When I communicate that perfection is the standard, I don’t give them room for grace either!

Finally, when I strive in my own strength toward perfection, I am turning my motherhood into a vessel that is to be set on a shelf and adored rather than a usable vessel to nurture my family. I communicate “don’t touch,” “do not disturb,” “Hands off.” This is my pretty vessel – it doesn’t need finger smudges and boogers to flaw its surface. But this is not what I am called to as a mother. The direct commission I have been given is to bring forth life and to bear fruit (both in a physical and spiritual realm). And who is the life giver? God! Who is the vine that I must abide in? His son, Jesus. Who develops the fruit in my life? The Spirit. And I so desperately want my sons to know this. This, right here – the power of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwelling in me!

So, no, I cannot do it. Motherhood is not for the faint of heart. I say that all the time – and that’s why God must be the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

So where does that leave me? I am going to mess up. I will have moments where my anger gets out of hand, where the house is not perfect (or maybe for the moment it is, but I have missed an opportunity to invest in one of the little ones), I get impatient, I speak harshly, I don’t give grace, or I mess up in many other ways that I know I will. And I want my sons to know that’s okay.

When I wound them, I want them to see me admitting it, asking for forgiveness, seeking their grace – so that they can go and do likewise.

When I fail, I want them to see that it’s okay. Perfection is not something we can attain. I want them to see me receiving grace in my time of need so that they also can receive grace in their time of need.

When I walk this road of life with my sons, I want to be tangible, real. I don’t want to be hands off. I want them to see my desperate need of Christ. I want to be usable. And the only way that will happen is to let Christ live through me. I don’t want to be an empty vessel on a shelf – I want to be filled and spilled. And that means being willing to get dirty (sometimes in physical ways too!).

So I’m giving up on the idea of perfection in my mothering. I’m giving up to the one who can live His life through me. Christ, the image of perfection – that who I want my sons to see!

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The Lie and the Truth of the Failing Mom

“Failure!” I heard it scream in my heart. “Failure!” You’re leaving your kids with unmet needs. You’re incapable of getting your baby to stay asleep. You’re pushing your oldest through his schoolwork. You’re doing too much housework. You’re not working out enough. “Failure!” I heard threatening my identity when I didn’t hear the phone the 5^th time my husband called, and I didn’t hear the doorbell the three times he rang it. “Failure!” It’s all my fault he’s late for work.

Each day, one moment is melting into another as I get lost in the swirl and chaos of four little boys age 5 and under. The oldest needs help with school. The youngest needs his most basic biological needs met (which for anyone who has never had experience with an infant, it takes a lot of time to do so!!!). The two in the middle – well, where do they fit in? I try to find things for them to play with, watch, of do (shoot, I’m probably letting them watch too many movies right now – failure!) while I help the oldest and the youngest. And somewhere in here, someone has to make meals, feed kids, wipe bums, change diapers, clean dishes, clean clothes, bathe bodies and wipe snotty noses. (Forget mamma getting a shower – who has time for that?)

Try to get up early? Yep, tried – but when you get 3-4 hours of sleep because said littlest has needs overnight, you don’t even hear your alarm go off in the morning. Tried getting naps too, but my brain won’t slow down long enough to let me relax.

So this is where I’ve found myself this afternoon – on my couch with my computer, coffee, and a cookie (mamma’s got to get some endorphins from somewhere) willing that my youngest does not awake from his afternoon nap too early.

I’ve had experience with these emotions before. They are nothing new. I’ve heard that word – failure – it’s all too familiar.

I’ve come to see this for what it is – a lie.
And I’ve come to see this for what it is – the truth.

The Lie

Let me explain. The truth of the matter is that my kids are alive. They are well fed. They are hearing the word of God on a regular basis. They are getting hugs and kisses, and for the most part, plenty of sleep. The oldest is learning to read and do his addition. My house is not a pig sty. Most days we have clean clothes to wear – and I get a shower at least once a week! All of this signifies that I’m not “failing” on a routine basis.

That’s why this is a lie! there’s only one who wants me to feel a failure in this way (my enemy). Why? Because he wants me to give up. He doesn’t like the potential of what it could look like for parents to raise four boys for the glory of their Creator. That scares him. So if he can just get me to get discouraged and think it’s not worth it or that I cannot do it, I may just give up and decrease the potential of the amazing impact my boys could have on the world around them. (Do not lose heart in doing good – for in due time, you will receive a reward if you do not give up!)

The Truth

The truth of the matter is that this word. This “failure” is in fact very true. I have yet to meet a woman who can do it all – the perfect house, the perfect kids (especially when there is more than one), the perfect decisions to please everyone around her, the perfect body, etc. And I am no exception to the rule. 

That's why this is the truth! There’s only One who wants me to feel a failure in this way (my Savior). Why? Because until I can admit my inadequacies, I cannot accept His all sufficiency. Because until I can admit my weakness, I cannot grasp His Strength. Because until I can confess my foolishness, I cannot understand His wisdom. (For the foolishness of God is wiser than man’s wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man’s strength).

It’s only when I realize my failings that I can begin to trust God’s sovereignty. It’s only when I come to Him with empty hands that He can fill them. His grace is sufficient. His strength is made perfect in my weakness – so it is, when I am weak, I am strong.

I, myself, am a failure. I cannot do it. But Christ in me is more than enough – and when I live out of that truth, I see that He will do exceedingly more than I could ask or think. For my God is enough. His presence in me is enough. And he makes my failures into more than enough to be used for His glory!

Edit March 2020: 

The original post was created five years ago. In all honesty, it hasn't gotten easier - just different. We've added two boys, moved to a smaller house, weathered a mental health crisis, and now we sit in self-quarantine during the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. Life is hard, and perhaps it always will be. But through it all, I have discovered that my pursuit of truth and the glory of God is crucial in maintaining proper perspective. 

None of us are enough for this job of mothering (and many who have just been thrust into full time stay-at-home-home-school-mom status due to this crisis may feel beyond overwhelmed!) I see you. I care! If you can find even a moment today (put on a virtual field trip for the kids or send them to the backyard to run around) to breathe, take it. Find a spot of beauty (a house plant, a warm shower, a photo album, some music). Take a minute to just be. Realize that Christ is here - even in the midst of this chaos. He is still in control. His strength is still enough. 

He's got this, Mamma! He's got you! And you've got this in His strength! Take your next step with Him today, and trust Him for the one after that. Grace and Peace!

Mother's Day (And I don't feel like a good one) Reflections and Prayers

I feel like a crummy mommy. We’re coming up on Mother’s day, and as I reflect on my journey over the past year (that started on Mother’s day, actually), I am probably more frustrated, embarrassed, and overwhelmed than I thought I was then.

I wake up every day with fantastic intentions to have fun with the boys, get a lot done, walk in the Spirit. And within 10 minutes of their waking (which recently has been an hour plus earlier than they should), I am angry, edgy, and frustrated. This is the course of the day; it is then set. Each offense after that just adds fuel to the fire. My tone gets more coarse, my reactions starch and stiff – definitely not the loving mother I always imagined I’d be.

Moments come where I may breathe, but most of the day, I hold my breath. I feel my cheeks puff, blood rushing to my skull. I stand up and get lightheaded, and I wonder why I don’t have the endurance to go the distance. Lord, open my lips so that I may breathe of You.

Sometimes, I wonder if it is my sheer determination to walk by the Spirit that makes it so hard. My enemy sees me as a threat. Maybe? So things get harder.

Or maybe my little boys are being just that – little boys. What else should I expect from a 4, 2, and 1-year-old? My parenting lacks as I just want to avoid. I’m tired of breaking up fights. I roll my eyes at the drama of another “owie.” I cannot stand to be asked one more time, “Can I have?” And most of the time, I am already in process of meeting the request even as they are asking. We’ve worked on manners, but they seem to go out the window when the boys are hungry (which they seem to be constantly.) I can’t keep anything nice in the house. The couches, chairs, beds, cribs, changing tables, gates, railings – they all become things to climb up, conquer, then jump off of. Balls are thrown (as are blocks and anything else that can be projected from a toddler’s grip). Maybe bubble wrap on everything would be most effective….. I don’t mind the fingerprints on the windows, the mud on the walls – soap and water always does the trick. Crumbs left on the floor; I can sweep those up. And the ones left in the sofa cushions, a vacuum and a little elbow grease (well, sometimes, it works anyway.) But what about the four-year-old’s name scribbled across my coffee table book in ball point ink? The wall he chose to use as his teacher’s marker board to educate his stuffed animals?

Then there’s “Mommy, MoMmY, MOMMY!” while I’m trying to take care of business on the phone, the inability to carry on a full conversation with my husband before 10 PM, two-hour-long dinner’s because “I don’t like it” again.

Sun up to sun down, food prep, dishes, sweeping, mopping, wiping counters, wiping noses, wiping bums (yuck), washing, drying, folding laundry and getting them into proper drawers. Pick up the toys (and don’t miss pieces, or your sore foot may remind you later). Training little ones to get dressed, make their beds, take their dishes, hold the dustpan, feed the dog. Sometimes before dawn, offering snuggles because of a bad dream; sometimes after dark, filling a water cup, turning on a bathroom light, or tucking them in again. Homeschooling (now that’s like a second full-time job), teaching ABCs and 123s, shapes, colors, science and art. Planning, purchasing, preparing meals, grocery shopping, check-book-balancing, bill paying, plant the seeds, water the vegetables, pick the produce and store it away. Bake the bread, boil the bagels, and brown the meat (all while superheroes battle it out behind me on the kitchen floor.) Catch a glance of the purple violets sitting in a saucer of water on the table and be reminded that my little ones do love me – even if they don’t always show it. 

I’m a mother – a tired mother. I’m a mother, and I want to be a better mother, a good mother, a mother that sees the fruit of God’s work in her life and in the life of her little ones. If they are to arise and call me blessed, something must start that process now. Someone must start that process now.

I’d love to have the “answer,” but I don’t think there is one. I get tired, weary, burnt out – all while desiring to walk with God. And I know I cannot do it. I cannot do it alone.

I was encouraged the other day by a comment that someone made that David (as in King David in the Bible) sought God before every battle. He didn’t assume that God’s battle plan would always be the same. So each time, he sought God to ask, “What is Your battle plan?” And sometimes motherhood feels like that – a battle. Each day, each moment even, a battle for good, for my kids’ hearts, for God’s victory in their life. Why would I think that God would want me to approach motherhood with a formula and try to do things the same each time. It just doesn’t work. Each battle is different. Lord, Give me wisdom to fight this battle today; show me how You want me to fight this battle now.

As this Mother’s day passes, and I enter in another year of motherhood, my prayer is for Christ to have the victory – over my heart, over the battles that I face, over my kid’s hearts – and that He alone would get the glory and honor. Soli Deo Gloria!

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