Being a Mom is Tough

Being a Mama is tough.

Yesterday (Monday)  I took Caleb to the doctor for his 6th grade physical and shots.  He answered all of his medical questions himself.  He sat still while Evelyn took his blood pressure and while Dr. Plumb listened to his lungs. He laughed a little when she listened to his belly, because he's ticklish.

And he sat through two shots better than some adults I've seen.

As I sat there, I thought back over the last almost 12 years....

When babies are little it's tough because they cry and sometimes you don't know what they want.  There are late night feedings and little amounts of sleep and explosive diapers and explosive spit up and days when you are lucky to get to take a shower. We pray for them to talk and walk and then when they start we just wish they'd be quiet, sit still, and take a nap.

And for me, there were days when I went back to work and would come home from a 12 hour shift so tired, and he'd be ready to play peek-a-boo.

Or days when I would beg him at 18 months to take a nap, and he'd say, "Mine don't do naps."

Days when legos were strung through the living room floor to step on, inflicting pain and an occasional bad word.

Days when he'd line all the cars up in the living room floor, and get mad when I moved them. "Mom... I had them just.  that.  way."

Mamas, we thought we had it tough then.

Now, being a mom is tough on days when they hurt and you don't always see it.

When you worry about what they are going to do when they grow up... and what the world will be like then.

Oh, some days it seems easy... and then they backtalk and decide to tell you all about Season 3 of Once Upon a Time when you're not even finished with Season 2 on Netflix, or roll their eyes at something you say, or stomp off to their room and slam their door "accidentally".

And some days they do their own laundry, only to bust a Tidepod in the water and ruin their favorite shirt, or paint a masterpiece for you, only to leave the remnants on your kitchen table. Or not really care when you are leaving for a week, with their only concern being, "Mom can I have some money?"

To me, though, the hardest part about being a Mama is knowing I'm not in control.  Knowing that he has to make his own decisions, and that part of growing up is making mistakes...

Wanting him to make the right choice, but knowing that he won't always do so.

Being a Mama is hard.  Being a parent is hard.

But in our weakness, He is strong, and He knows all about being a parent...

Because He is our Abba Father.  And He loves me, even when I make a mess of being a Mom and yell and occasionally throw things and threaten and make my own poor decisions.

He loves Caleb more than I do....

And on nights like this, I'm so glad that He chose me, in all of my messes and mix-ups and temper tantrums to be Caleb's mama, and that He has promises to teach my children and to render His blessings to my children and my children's children.  (And I claim these for not just Caleb, but for all those kiddos I come into contact. May I always be a light for Jesus to them).

Blessed to be Caleb's Mama...and to know that I am loved by an awesome Father God.

Linking up on the P31 OBS blog, where we are discussing Lysa Terkeurst's Am I Messing Up My Kids?