I am far from a perfect mother. There are times where I lose my temper and others where I just want to crawl into a hole. But being a parent does not require perfection. Ninety percent of parenting comes from just showing up.
I am not perfect. No matter how hard I try, I never will be. When I fuck up, I apologise. I explain everything in plain terms. I call it like it is. I will admit fault and I try hard not to repeat my mistakes. There are also times when my children have to accept error and when they do they also apologise.
My children are the most incredible people. They have big personalities. They have their own opinions and I allow the to express them. They are kind and thoughtful. They have beautiful manners. They are both considerate, in different ways. The most rewarding thing is seeing how much they love each other. I have fucked up all over the place but when I see them hugging each other or holding hands I realise that they will be okay.
Sure, they are going to have hang ups and only like 95% will be my fault but they are treasures. They will have shit to work through as adults but I hope I will have the skills to help them work through that and I know I will have the relationship where they will be able to turn to me for assistance. I know this because my children ask me the most intricate and personal questions and I deliver them the truth. Every time. They know they can trust me and that is priceless.
Tonight my daughter had a major meltdown. Admittedly she was tired after a big day but I know that, with her, the truth comes out when she is tired. For my son, it's when he's angry. But my darling little girl lost the plot tonight. She had the middle of the bed last night and her brother wanted his turn tonight and she just fell to pieces. She didn't want to miss out on "Mummy time" because we don't get to spend every weekend together and she misses me (aw!). So we both ended up in tears and I reassured her that I would love nothing more than to have my children in Melbourne with me all the time.
She settled down and insisted on lying on my chest for story time, just like she used to as a bub. By the end of the chapter I had my gorgeous princess in a fitful slumber, drooling contentedly onto my chest.
I feel thoroughly blessed. I am not a perfect mother but I don't have to be. My children need to know that there is no such thing as perfection. And the best bit is they love me anyway. Despite the yelling and the occasional dummy spit on my behalf. That is a very comforting thought because I will never be perfect. I will continue to fuck up as they get older but they will know that I love them more than anything else because I will show them that. I will cook their favourite meals, I will smother them in hugs and kisses, I will ensure that our time together includes the things that they love to do. I will tolerate hours investigating reptiles at the pet shop and shopping for birthday presents when all I really want to do is curl up in bed. I will watch the same movie for the 400th time and laugh, not because it is funny but because my children are still experiencing the joy. I will read until my throat hurts. I will laugh. I will cry. I will talk about the difficult things and explain stuff as best I can. I will, as patiently as I can, teach my son to use the sewing machine. I will dig up worms with my daughter. I will do a plethora of things I don't particularly enjoy to see their faces light up. I will bathe in cold water on a windy beach to ensure they are safe.
I have said over and over that I will not change who I am for anyone but I will blur those boundaries for my children. Considerably. For they are worth it.
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