Today was the day. In a terribly stressful parenting moment, surrounded by other moms, I said something I’ve probably said a thousand times. And it didn’t strike me right then as the words left my mouth, but it hit me like a brick between the eyes an hour later.

“I’m sorry…I totally feel like THAT mom right now.” There it is. The weight that I drop every time it comes out.

Of course, there are variations on the theme, and I’ve said them all: “I just feel like THAT mom right now,” or “I don’t want to be THAT mom.”

Regardless of how I’ve said it, I’m thinking the phrase “THAT mom” over this afternoon, and realizing it’s one I need to scratch from my vocabulary.

For one thing, I’m not even sure who “she” is. You know, that mom I only ever feel like in a harried or stressful or embarrassing situation? And whoever she is, I’m sure she’d be offended to hear me say it, and rightly so. I only ever give her credit when my ugly side is on the verge, or when I’ve exposed some part of my mothering self that I wasn’t quite ready for the world to see. So these words come out, and we moms laugh together, or the mom standing across from me is encouraging and insists that I’m surely not that mom after all.

But what message am I sending?

I’m communicating that I’m suddenly insecure about what’s happening with my children or my parenting skills or my inability to always hold it all together. That’s exactly what I’m doing. And I’m saying to anyone within earshot that I don’t want to be THAT mom because she’s not acceptable to me. Because I don’t want to be perceived as the mom who doesn’t have a handle on her kids…or her house…or her life in general.

Does any mom wake up in the morning and aim low for the day?

I’m pretty sure not. But life happens. Schedules get hairy. Messes are made faster than we can clean them up. Kids have meltdowns in very public places. I know this, and yet I somehow forget it’s true in the midst of a broken down minute or day or week. Instead, I belittle myself, and without even trying, I belittle moms everywhere each time I refer to THAT mom–that imperfect woman I really don’t want to be. Only pride and human nature possess me to attempt at perfection in the first place.

It goes without saying that I’m absolutely imperfect. Like most every mom, I painstakingly attempt to get it right for my kids and family, and I meet roadblocks (quite regularly) along the way. Our children are *mostly* happy and well adjusted. The house is passable most days, and it looks lived in, which it should. My day to day is reflective of the journey all mothers are on while parenting young kiddos, who are themselves just trying to figure things out in a world that is largely new to them, too.

THAT mom needs me to give her a little grace. As it turns out, I am she. And she is steadfast and strong, committed and loyal, spurred on to love tirelessly, even when it’s incredibly hard. She is also exhausted at times, challenged by external factors, entitled to have a bad day. Still the only one in the world who happens to be the right mom for her own kids.

Maybe if I stopped working so hard to have it all together, I’d have a little more room for myself when I make mistakes. I’d have more room for that OTHER mom who’s wearing herself out trying, too. It could be so beautiful if we were all doing it together. Shall we?

xo,

that mom