I love my exceptionally mediocre kids.

God, I love ‘um. I love them in the morning and in the afternoon, I love them in the evening underneath the moon. I love their guts, always and forever.   I sometimes sit and wonder how lucky we each are that we are together, I reflect on the awesomeness that their father and I created. I think about all the work my body did to grow them, to feed them, to keep that DNA moving and making this exact version of a Musto Chick. It is quite an extraordinary miracle, life.

That being said I know that my miracles are exceptionally mediocre humans, just like me. They are chock full of potential and cool talents (you should see Lucy cross her eyes). They are good and bad, cranky and kind, honest and fibbers, smart and lazy… you get the idea. My girls are made to be something very special, I fully believe that God is going to use their journey to do something profound. Profound meaning full of meaning in their own lives… who knows one might be the kindest garbage woman… one that rolls down the garbage of a 90 year old woman so she doesn’t have to. One may be a teacher, who impacts many children… one that builds a child stronger and confident. Who knows, maybe one will be a famous singer, who chooses songs that honor our spirit and use their fame to make life better for one or some…

My only job is to love those exceptionally mediocre humans, which call me mom and sometimes call me mean. My job is to build them to be the best adults I can, adults who are kind, honest, confident, bold and who understand the golden rule- love always and anyway (even when you don’t want to, even when it sucks).

Love.does.not.mean.giving.them.everything. Love is making choices for them, because I am mom. Love is giving them independence when the time is right, to allow them to succeed or fail on their own. Love is building boundaries, the kind that remind us that our children are.not.our.friends. I need to repeat this- my children are NOT my friends, I have enough friends. I am Mom. God did not choose me to be Amelia’s BFF or Lucy’s buddy. Love means being mom, even when it would be easier to be a friend. Moms should be safer than a friend. Love is punishing my kids, so they know wrong. Love is letting my child hurt, letting that nurse and doctor do their job even if my lovely is crying, letting my daughter fail. My hope in failure is knowing that at the most hurting and bottom place you can be… when you think it cannot get better… then comes the rebuilding.

My hope is that my girls grow to be exceptionally mediocre adults with purpose, a love of life and a desire to live well. That at their hardest they will know I am here, for the low low part and the rebuilding. I will do my best, but I will never be a friend- I am mom.

I snuck away to see Bad Moms this week, I loved it. It was less funny than I anticipated, but that is a good thing. I had no idea to expect such a strong and positive message- knockout entitlement. Build our kids better, build ourselves better and build our relationships stronger. It was not all about a bunch of moms who quit the crazy and perfect Pinterest world, who throw away the judgmental norms of parenting. It wasn’t about a bunch of moms who drank wine and gave up on their kids… it was the opposite (yes they drank wine). Those moms were brave enough to let go of caring what the perfect ones think. They were brave enough to love each other anyway- for the flawed and tired parents that they were. They were all doing their best, but in that they were doing EVERYTHING to make their exceptionally mediocre kiddos perfect. It is so freakin’ stressful to be perfect, I know this for a fact. Our kids feel it when we push it… perfect is silly and not real. Instead of honoring our children for who they are who they are made to be we try to fit them into this box of perfect. It is exhausting. It is no fun. It leaves no time for failure, for fun, for flexibility or life…

I love my exceptionally mediocre kids. I love how imperfect they are. I look back and see how imperfect I was (quite imperfect and mediocre) and I know they will be just fine. I just need to keep loving them, building them, standing right with them when they fall, laughing with them, crying together… growing together into the exceptionally mediocre humans God wants us to be.

Am I the only one who loves their exceptionally mediocre kiddos? Share please, I would love to know that I am not a crazy lady with whacky ideas… or maybe I am made to be a crazy lady with whacky ideas…

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