LJ Idol Prompt 1 — Someone who will love you in all your damaged glory

[flipflop_diva]

Chaos is winning.

The dog is barking. Both kids are screaming. Toys are scattered across the floor, naked Barbies mixed in with Legos mixed in with blocks mixed in with a scooter and a tricycle and various pieces of furniture that once belonged neatly inside a doll house.

I’m supposed to be working — a deadline looms once again — but there has been too much noise, too many interruptions, too many “Mommy!! Mommy!!”s, and I can feel my stress level rising like a wave inside me.

And then the inevitable happens. A crash, a scream, an “I’m sorry!” and I look up to see an entire glass of apple juice — apple juice that was never supposed to leave the kitchen table — slowly soaking into the couch cushions and dripping on to the living room floor.

And then here it comes. The breaking point.

“Ellie! Didn’t I tell you not to drink that in here? Why do you always make such bad decisions?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I hate that I said them. I hate me for saying them.

Ellie’s crying now. And I’m still angry, but it’s anger that is quickly simmering into guilt. And misery. And disappointment. At the kids for never listening, even when I tell them something over and over. But mostly at me, for never being the mom they deserve.

I turn around and go grab a pile of paper towels and a package of baby wipes. I hand some of the paper towels to Ellie and have her help me clean everything up. We wipe the floor and the couch and then we carry the one soaked cushion to the laundry room. One more thing to add to the never-ending piles of laundry.

Ellie’s still crying. I give her a hug.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” I say. “Please don’t drink your juice in the living room.”

“I’ll never do it again,” she cries, and I know she means it. But I also know she will do it again, because she’s five and she forgets and the impulse to just drink juice wherever she wants is strong, even if she does know better.

She trudges back to her brother and their mess of toys. I go back to my laptop and my work, but I keep replaying the scene over and over. How I could have done better. How I should have done better. How I’ve read the articles. How I know that yelling at kids doesn’t actually do anything and being understanding and patient is so much better.

And I try. I try to be understanding. I try to be patient. I try to take a deep breath. But I’m so far from perfect. I’m so far from those Instagram moms who do everything right.

I’m so far from being like my own mom. My mom who was so loving and kind and would do everything for my sister and me. I know that we did get yelled at, but those memories are fuzzier and more vague than the ones where she was just there for us. The ones from car rides where I talked to her about anything and everything. The ones from the phone calls every Saturday morning starting from the week I first left for college and didn’t stop until she passed away.

When I think of my mom, I think of how patient she was. How gentle. And I worry my own kids will just remember the times I yelled at them or snapped at them. Or wasn’t patient enough. Wasn’t gentle enough. And I worry maybe they think that already.

--

It’s later that night. We’ve all made it through the day. The house is still a disaster. Work is still not quite done. The kids are tired and a little cranky.

I’m sitting on the couch, taking a few minutes to play a game on my phone. Ellie comes over.

“Can I sit with you Mommy?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say, and she climbs on to the couch and curls up next to me, watching me as I play my game.

A minute later and Riker appears.

“I sit with you too?” he says, and I help him up on my other side. It’s hard to hold my phone now, so I put it down and put my arms around them both and pull them close.

“I love you, Mommy,” Ellie says.

“I lub you too!” Riker says, in his little two-year-old baby voice.

“I love both of you so, so much,” I tell them, and I keep my arms around both of them, thinking not about the juice incident from this morning but of the way they call for me when they have bad dreams at night or the way they want me when they get hurt or feel yucky. The way they smile when I show up at daycare to pick them up. The way Ellie asks me if I can go on her pre-k field trips with her and her smile when I tell her yes.

I have a lot of work to do as a mom. I know this. I need to try harder to be more patient, to be more understanding, to be more gentle. I am not perfect, not by any means. Neither are they.

But they love me, so much. And I love them more than I would ever have thought possible. And I want to be better for them. I want to deserve the love they already have for me.

I owe them this.

And so I keep working at it. I will keep working at it. And maybe someday, I will get there.







Non-fiction.



This was written for the new season of therealljidol. If you liked my entry, please consider voting for me! You should also go read the other amazing entries. You can find them here. Voting should be up Saturday night!

Comments

[pixiebelle]

I think every parent has these moments. We are all human and make mistakes. But you are aware of your mistakes and apologize for them, and clearly your kids love you so much.

[breakfastatholly]

I know you're a better mom than you think you are and those kiddos are lucky to have you <33333
(I'm lucky to have you too!)

[adoptedwriter]

Hugs...Kid life!

[thephantomq]

Ah yes, the omnipresent mommy-guilt. You're human, just like your little kiddos are -- you also experience big emotions and dysregulation just as much as they do. The fun comes in because you're an adult, and you "know" better.

You apologized, and honestly? That's the important thing, here. <3

[fausts_dream]

You sound like an excellent mom, we all have imperfect moments, but you reworked it and showed your love.

Great entry

[talonkarrde]

parenthood in a nutshell!

good parents always try to give their kids a better life than they had. be kind to yourself.

[drippedonpaper]

You will.

How your entry sounds like my thoughts (And even some of my entries) when my 3 were little. It's such a mess and I wanted to be so kind and sometimes snapped. :(

I think as writers we also (I did) keep worrying that they will remember only the bad moments.

You are a great mom! Things will turn out. My kids are 23, 20 and 17 now. It's always one moment at a time, even now. I can tell how much you love your kids. It shines through your entries. I am sure they will see and feel your love.

[roina_arwen]

Hugs! I think Ellie and Riker are lucky to have you as their mom. ❤️

[gunwithoutmusic]

I wonder how many moments your mom had just like this, while your happy memories of her are what stayed. I know how much you love those kids, and I'd be willing to bet that is what they're going to remember.

So good to see you back! :)

[halfshellvenus]

I think it's impossible to be perfect, even though your mom seems that way in retrospect. Especially with sudden events of naughtiness and misfortune!

Wanting to be better and focusing on it means you are already a good parent, and hoping to be even better. That's fantastic!

We had a "Food does not leave the kitchen" rule in our house, and the kids didn't break that until their teens (our daughter's only real rebellion). So, maybe that might help, unless you already have that rule?

[murielle]

As someone who has been reading your work for many years I have had the privilege of watching your relationship with Ellie (Riker sneaked in there between Idols!) grow and shine.

What they will remember is being in your arms at the end of the day. Feeling safe, and loved and you being there for them. They don't know yet how blessed they are to have you, but they will.

[muchtooarrogant]

This was a great entry; your frustration under stress and your love for your kids was eloquently expressed and believable.

As someone who tries hard to be a good dad, and sadly fails too often, I hope you'll allow me the following comment. Yes, you owe it to your kids to be the best parent you can be, but you also owe yourself the grace to be human and sometimes fall short. Just as with your memories of your mother, it's the loving times most kids will remember, the times when you were their hero!

Well written!

Dan

[static_abyss]

Being a parent is hard. I can understand this now as an adult and despite all the mistakes my parents made, they were always there when I needed them and that stuck more than the yelling.

Thay you want to do your best for your kids is already many steps ahead of many parents.

[alycewilson]

Beautiful! Just like you remember the sweeter moments with your mom. over the less good ones, I'm guessing your kids will do the same. You're doing the best you can, and it's challenging when they're young!

[rayaso]

I loved your description of the chaos. Our children are grown, but I would give anything to go back to those days, minus the spilled juice. You must be a great mother to be second-guessing yourself about how you could have handled this differently. I know it's difficult, but cherish the chaos.

[banana_galaxy]

You capture that mom guilt well. Just wait until they're older. My 17yo daughter told me off for trying to guilt trip her the other day (she was right XD) but she still comes to me and gives me giant hugs whenever she wants one. It sounds like you're doing a wonderful job, especially because you care when you get it wrong, and so you vow to do better. No one is perfect, and everyone deserves love.

[winter_time]

I love how you really captured all the emotions that come with parenting life so clearly <3

[dadi]

I admire you and all the parents out there <3

[mollywheezy]

I loved this, especially your first line. Yes, chaos wins at my house, too.

[erulissedances]

Oh yes, motherhood isn't easy and it's only one small step down from sainthood.

- Erulisse (one L)