*Full disclosure: I almost didn’t post this. Immediately after writing this post, I had a meltdown and yelled at my husband (as one does when they are in the depths of despair). And then I put on my big girl panties, apologized to my husband for yelling, and decided to follow my own advice and pick myself up and move on. And I was feeling much better. Then, my kids came home from school and had “the best day ever!” and so I felt even less like a failure because everything worked out. And so I almost didn’t post this. But we all have those moments when we feel completely overwhelmed. I wrote this during one of those moments. So in case anybody needs to see some unfiltered real life, I decided to go ahead and post it – drama and dumb jokes and all!
I’ve always tried to be honest on here, and today’s post is no exception to that. So here’s my brutal, unedited honesty: I feel like I’m failing as a mom. Now before you start with the pep-talks of “you’re a great mom” or “you’re doing your best” or “you’re exactly the mom your children need” – I know that. Deep down, I know that’s true.
But sometimes, it’s really hard to believe it, ya know?
I know I’m not the only mother out there who doubts her abilities – who even sometimes doubts her WORTH because she’s not the perfect mother. Heck, most of the time I don’t resemble a perfect mother AT ALL. I’m sure you have felt the same way. And, while this post is for you – fellow mothers who doubt themselves – it’s more for me. I’m a fan of using writing to express myself and to get it all out here. One of my spiritual gifts is the ability to express myself. I haven’t figured out exactly what that means. Maybe it means I’m a good writer – I don’t know, you tell me – or maybe it just means that I am not afraid to put it all out here and be real with ya’ll. Like I said, I’m still figuring it out.
So, why am I feeling like a failure as a mother? The answer might surprise you – and here’s my disclaimer that this might all be a little melodramatic. But I’m not going to apologize for the melodrama. I’m not going to apologize for having feelings. And you shouldn’t either.
Why I feel like a failure as a mother
For two years I homeschooled my kids. The pandemic led me to start. The fact that we loved it led me to continue. And the exhaustion and solo-parenting (at the time) led me to end that journey for now. So when we moved to South Korea, I knew I was going to be sending my three oldest kids to public school (if you’re new here: they attend the schools on the military installation – so no, they are not attending Korean schools). C had gone to public school for Kinder through 2nd grade. But E and L had NEVER been to public school. I knew it was going to be an adjustment. But I didn’t realize HOW BIG of an adjustment it was going to be.
Suddenly, I’m doing things on someone ELSE’S terms. Due dates and schedules and having to catch the bus absurdly early in the morning (what elementary school has the kids catch the bus at 6:55???) and homework and trying to figure out how to navigate three different teachers’ expectations from two different schools. All, by the way, while taking care of two toddlers at home who seem to have made it their life’s goal of getting me to lose what little sanity I have left (but boy howdy are they cute while doing it!).
And that’s one thing I didn’t fully appreciate about homeschool: that it was on MY terms. And more importantly: on my KIDS’ terms. We catered the learning to THEIR needs. Of course, by the end of our homeschooling journey, we were probably doing more “unschooling” than anything else. And that’s fine. Honestly, it was TIME for my kids to go to public school. It was time for all of us to do a little reset. So I’m not saying I regret sending my kids to school. 100% I know it was the right call. But the grass is always greener, right?
Let’s look at just the past week and a half of school. L had an “alphabet fashion show” at school. She was assigned a letter, and was sent home with a paper vest to decorate with pictures and words that started with that letter. Normally this kind of thing would be right up my alley. Print off some pictures, glue them on, make it all cutesy, and call it a day, right? Only problem: our stuff hasn’t arrived in Korea yet and therefore, no printer. Was I thinking ahead enough to go to the USO to use their printer? Sure wasn’t. And so, the night before the fashion show, C is helping L draw some pictures to tape onto her vest. It’s fine. They had fun doing it. And then I show up at the fashion show, and what do I see? Every other child there had a beautifully decorated vest. Like they went HAM on those babies. You couldn’t even see their vests because of how many pictures and words and letters were printed on them. Meanwhile, my child has 6 drawings poorly taped onto her vest – and most of them weren’t even colored. L seemed okay with it though. She was nervous for the fashion show and actually wanted me to walk the runway with her (which I did, and danced all the way with her), but she didn’t seem to care about her less-than-colorful vest.
And then C had a choir concert in which they were required to wear white shirts (with buttons) and black pants. Only problem? She didn’t have a white shirt (because, again, we don’t have our stuff) and the only white shirt I could find at the PX (the mall on post) was an adult size small. We bought it (and spent like $30 on it, by the way) and moved on. Except a 10-year-old doesn’t really fit into an adult size small. And so she was SWIMMING in the shirt. Weirdly enough, she loved it. She begged me to let her keep the shirt instead of taking it for myself since its, ya know, more my size. So we showed up at the choir concert and there was my child: wearing a shirt that is three sizes too big for her and belting out the National Anthem.
And then there was yesterday. It’s Red Ribbon Week at the schools and so each day was a different themed day. Crazy sock day, pajama day… nothing much has changed since I was in school, I guess. Well, Thursday was “dress as a book character day” in which kids can choose a book and dress as a character from that book. Simple enough, right? Well, I dropped the ball. I dropped the ball big time. Not only do we not have our stuff (ie. no dress ups), we also don’t have any of our books. Could we have used library books? Absolutely. Could we have fashioned some kind of costume out of paper bags and construction paper? Totally. Did I think about all of this ahead of time? No, I surely did not. So I just told the kids that they wouldn’t be able to participate in that part of Red Ribbon Week. They were fine with it. And then I get an email after the kids left for school. It starts talking about the character parade that parents can come watch. Oh. So apparently they are making a whole ordeal out of it. (And the irony is that if I’d checked the kids’ class accounts earlier in the week, I’d have known.) And guess who sent her kids to school with NO book and NO costume? *points at self* This lady! So now everyone gets to see my failure. Yippee.
And let’s not even get started on homework. Honestly, I hate homework to begin with, but that’s not really worth getting into. These days, all the freaking homework is online. I think they think they are making our lives easier by not sending home 30 worksheets. But when you have three kids with online homework and only one computer (sometimes two if Brandon leaves his laptop at home): it’s a recipe for disaster. And so what do we do? We just don’t do the homework. Killin’ it! Okay, so it’s not like I am intentionally making my kids skip homework. And I think we are doing OKAY. I just haven’t figured out how to manage homework on top of everything else.
And so right about now I’m feeling like I have failed my kids in just about every way and I’m really missing homeschool. But then I know mentally and emotionally I just CANNOT homeschool right now. So then I feel stuck. And stuck is the worst way to feel.
Don’t get me wrong: our homeschooling wasn’t always perfect. In fact, it never was. I’m coming to the realization that I felt like a failure when we homeschooled too. I beat myself up plenty when we homeschooled. The difference between my homeschool failures and my present failures? The homeschool failures were PRIVATE.
The big difference that I can see in my failures as a mom now versus when we homeschooled is that NOW they are so much more public. People could see my child’s poorly-thrown-together vest. They can see my daughter’s oversized clothing. And they can see that my kids DIDN’T bring a book to school and DIDN’T dress up like a character. And then the teachers can see that my kids AREN’T completing all of their homework.
And so it’s not just me noticing my failures. Other people can see what looks to me like VERY public failures. Now ARE they noticing them? Maybe. Are they judging me for these failures? Maybe. Of course nobody is saying anything. I’m not pointing the finger at anyone. This is a ME problem. It is absolutely, completely an Ashley problem.
The point to all this ranting
I do have a point to all this. Which I know is shocking to the 6 of you that will read this. Writing all of this out has made me really have to dig deep and think hard. Why do I care if I look like a failure to other people? If I’m being honest, it’s because I care what people think about me.
*Side Tangent Warning*
I actually have a whole post that I’ve been working on about just that. It’s not ready for any human eyes besides my own. Because I’m still working on myself in that area. Me caring too much about what people think of me is really the ONE THING that holds me back. It’s the bane of my very existence. And so I’m working on that. But honestly, there is SO MUCH to unpack with that. Each therapy session I THINK we are going to talk about one thing, and it always leads to just ONE MORE WAY that me caring too much what people think about me is producing the exact results I’m always trying to prevent. Our brains are wild, man.
*End Side Tangent*
It’s also probably because I want my kids to be healthy, happy, well-adjusted, and educated – and maybe I don’t feel like I’m showing up in a way that is going to yield those results.
But if I’m being TRULY honest with myself, I can acknowledge that we are in this weird phase of life called “adjusting” where we are still getting used to, well, life. We’ve had a lot of big changes these days. Moving to a new country, for one. But also I went from solo-parenting to now having a husband again (which I am SO GRATEFUL FOR but it also has some funny little challenges). And then I sent my kids to public school, which is ANOTHER big adjustment.
If someone else was telling me all of this about them, would I be saying, “Wow, you’re right – you are a failure!” Absolutely NOT! I would be saying, “This is hard. You’re doing your best. And you’re killin’ it. Your kids are doing fine and you’re doing amazing.”
So why don’t I just say that to myself? Why don’t we all say that to ourselves?
I’m going to start. Every morning when I wake up I’m going to look myself in the mirror and say OUT LOUD:
I am doing my best. My best is good enough. I am exactly the mother my kids need. I am a warrior goddess and I have a totally hot bod.
Okay, so I’m joking about that last one.
I’m dead serious. I’m going to do it. And I think you should too. Because there is far too much to enjoy in this life to spend any time beating ourselves up for “failing.” My kids grow up way too fast for me to worry about that at all. I know I’ll continue to beat myself up sometimes – because I’m only human after all – but my hope is that I can own those little failures (“Oops, we forgot about that homework assignment”) without making it mean anything about me. All that failure means is that I’m human. And that’s a very, very good thing.
Because if I wasn’t a human then I’d be an android or an animal and I don’t want to be either one of those.
Okay. We’re going off the rails here. Did I mention another one of my spiritual gifts is humor? I’ve been learning about spiritual gifts lately and I’m kind of into it.
Alright. I’m done now.
So here’s to turning over a new leaf. Here’s to dedicating more time to the things that actually matter. Here’s to celebrating the successes. Here’s to snuggling my kids more and comparing myself to other moms less. Here’s to you, mothers of the world. Here’s to your struggles and your successes!
Here’s to going on and on with all kinds of fluff in an effort to end this post in some kind of inspirational way. You can’t blame me for trying.
’til next time…
Ash
