This was originally posted on my Facebook page in 2015. Particular comments from that post (thanks Sophi, Kari, Janie, Melissa and Dawn) planted (more) serious seeds about starting this blog. So I’m re-posting here because it was appropriate then, and it is appropriate now…maybe even more so.
It’s amazing the things that come up when I’m cleaning the corral. I call it “manure therapy.”
I’ve been told I should write a book. That’s not likely to happen. Who would want to read it anyway?
I am a daughter. I am a wife. I am a mom.
I have six kids. Two by birth, two by marriage, two by adoption, all by choice.
I’m tired of hearing all the clichés that come along with being a mom. I’m tired of hearing about all the things that are “normal.” I’m tired of being placated when I’m real and honest about my experience as a mom. I’m…tired.
Here’s what I know.
I love all of my kids. I miss them. But that doesn’t mean I want them around 24/7. I do not love them the same. I can’t. They are all different. My relationship with each of them is different. Not only is each kid different, four of them have two different mothers. Connections have to be different just because of that alone. But all six are still my kids, and I love them.
I am not (always) a good mom. I do not (always) like my kids. I am not special for the decisions I’ve made. I am not a hero.
So what? Well, I’ve learned some things about my reality.
My heart will feel and want; my heart will rejoice and be sad. I can love all of my kids and nothing will change that. But they don’t have to love me back. I look at my own parents differently at this point in my life.
I am a daughter. I am a wife. I am a mom. I always will be.