I was a terrible mom today. Really. Short-tempered. Frustrated. Of course, Camilla was not a stellar daughter, but that’s not really her job. Adrian hung onto my leg and whined the entire morning while I tried to do laundry and change the sheets. Camilla ignored me or did the opposite of everything I asked her to do. And I let it all get to me. I yelled—more than once.
Not my best day.
Tonight as I was putting dinner on the table (If you must know, it was pasta primavera with homegrown zucchini, green beans, and snow peas—addicting!), that precious and precocious little girl piped up (after setting the table for me, I might add).
“Mommy, will you love me forever?” she asked.
“Yes, I’ll love you forever.”
“Forever every day?”
“Yes, sweetie. Every minute of every day.”
“You’ll never stop?”
“I’ll never stop loving you. Not for a second,” I said. “I’ll love you every second for the rest of my life.”
“Even though I’m bad?”
“Even when you disobey.”
“Even when I throw things and run around and act crazy?”
“Yes, even though you had a bad day, I still love you. I never stopped,” I said. “And even though I had a bad day, I still love you.”
She smiled. She seemed satisfied. I only hope it was enough. I feel like every day I’m asking God to pick up the pieces and fill in the cracks when my efforts just don’t measure up. It’s never enough, is it? I can’t be everything they need. The older they get, the less I can fill their needs and the more I have to pray that somehow they’ll be all right anyway.
This isn’t what I was planning to write about, but it’s the only thing I can focus on at the moment. The catharsis of putting it on the screen where I can see it soothes the grit that’s left in my soul from a rough Monday. Others can read this, with or without judgment, and may be encouraged or somehow touched . . . and that’s really what it’s all about. When I fail, those others of you who are less than perfect will know you’re not the only one. We can band together and hope and pray for the best.