To the mama who knows that her rough moment, which maybe turned into an entire afternoon…or week, will not become HER. To the mama who can hurt from the weight of life’s demands, both self-imposed and otherwise, but will still rise to the challenge the next morning. To the mama who may be overlooked because your sister, your cousin, your bestie has it less together, needs more help, and makes others feel needed, relied upon, and parental. To the mama who chooses to commiserate instead of complain.
This one’s for you.
You seem like you have it all together. With errors few and far between, you get to all the practices, lessons, and meetings on time. Your kids are in relatively clean clothes. You can find something in the fridge or pantry to toss down the gullets of them hungry babies… most of the time. You are a shiny example to the people who can’t understand how you do it all.
But, even the shiniest stars burn out.
Maybe our fake smiles are just a little more deceptive?
When my husband first left to work overseas, I thought for sure this was my Everest. We had friends and family pouring in the, “we got her”s to him; the “if you need anything..”s to me. But, somewhere along the line, when I absolutely did not have a very public downfall, people decided I was the mystical unicorn that could do it all, be it all, handle it all.
Can we tackle our to-do lists? Preach, sisters. This mama relishes in the scratch of the pencil lead (Ticonderoga #2s, obvs) crossing another task off my planner. But, guys? What if I was crying as I did it?
You see, just because we are capable does not mean we are bullet-proof.
Are you tired? Because I’m tired.
A beautiful tired.
A content tired.
The schoolwork, and the lesson-planning, and the house, and the kids in a season of bickering, and the surprise “cheese and rice, I better go get new tires!” and the “why are we out of eggs AGAIN?”… we are not impervious to those things. To this life.
But, we do refuse failure. We COULD. NOT. cook dinner tonight? We know we can order a pizza. We needed to slow the moment with a movie with the kids? We know that doesn’t mean we’ve ruined them from the inside out.
The strong mamas are all mamas. All those mamas who come from a place of love. To fight for it another day. Who know they are making a difference. However incremental it may seem. Who know that their fatigue is not the sign of a hard life, but of pulling-yourself-up-by-your-bootstrap grit.
Maybe you share my belief that God sees me. And has not given these trials to drown me, but opportunities to birth new light in me. To shape my endurance.
Maybe you don’t come from a place of faith. No biggie. You know who sees you? Those little nuggets you made. They see you never giving up. They see you getting knocked down and getting right back up. They see you taking care of their basic needs.
You are making an impact. This is your legacy.
You may not have your tribe beating down your door to offer help, but you are seen, sweet friend. You matter. You’re not just here to take care of the pee-sheets, and the dinners, and the math work. Little eyes are looking up at you as the one who gave them grace for their accidents, who made their favorite dinners, who know you care so much you devote your days to teaching them at home.
Us strong mamas, all mamas, we are carried by our faith and/or each other.
Struggle for a day. But you find that warrior princess inside you that has kept you going this long. That has fooled people into thinking you’re the unicorn. You draw on us until you find her.
Because you have never walked alone.
:: Rocky theme music plays ::
Hi, I’m Samantha. I’m married to my delicious high school sweetheart, and we’ve made 3 of the most rad humans to ever walk the planet. I have a BS in psychology, am a former Army wife, and believe there’s nothing that can’t be solved with a hot shower and an Impratical Jokers marathon. I love Jesus, the Food Network, babies, and Trader Joe’s. You can find me on Facebook and at Sangria and Sloppy Kisses.