We strive for perfection as moms, don’t we?
It’s the golden standard we hold ourselves to in almost every aspect of motherhood.
Since I’ve been in Olympic-coma these past few weeks, I keep seeing it over, and over, and over. These athletes train – for years – for a moment. *The* moment. Some of them are crushed and others walk away victorious. But I think it was something Michael Phelps said in an interview with Bob Costas (those kill me!) that has stuck:
I leave Rio with no regrets.
I think that’s how I’d like to start the school year, with no regrets.
We dream of the perfect summer, the one filled with ice cream and pool time, lazy mornings and happy family memories. What we usually get is far below that – timeouts, tears and sibling rivalry with a side of sunburn. Then, when we roll into the school doors, we fret over wasting the beautiful months of summer because now we’re crying over our kids growing up too fast.
And I have to be honest, I can’t do that anymore.
Did our summer have its bad moments? Girl, you know it did. But, mostly, we chose to focus on the good it offered us. And a crazy thing happened. We enjoyed our imperfectly perfect summer. I think we just stopped looking for perfection and started leaning into the really good moments and holding on for as long as we could.
As we walked in those school doors this week (even though it was through a torrential downpour), we did it without tears. Without regrets. The best part of my job as a mom is watching my kids grow up. I absolutely love it. I can’t keep asking time to slow down, because in the moments where I wish for the impossible, I’m missing out on the now. I’m squandering the beauty right before me.
And the occasional sibling hip check and left hook.
Here’s to a great school year, y’all.