I'm Not the Perfect Mom

I've come to a realization in the past week that may come as a shock to you all...I'm not the perfect mom. :)  Okay, while this may not be a shock at all to most of you, it surprisingly came as a revelation to me.  While I have always "known" this to be true, this past week it all hit me in a new way.  Let me share a little bit just how "not perfect" I am in fact...

I don't take perfect pictures, and edit and touch up.  I don't resize, recolor, adjust the saturation, contrast, black and white, sepia, clean the background, touch up blemishes on the photo, make peoples' eyes sparkle, blur the background...or any other of the million things to do that make pictures look great that I don't even know about~ phew!  I don't go to artsy places to take my own pictures, or take Eli to a photographer for all of his big milestones to get professional pictures made.  I like it when Eli is looking at the camera and smiling.  He is not in the right or left "third" of the picture, but centered most of the time...if I can catch him.  My family photo album will never look like a magazine.

I don't have Elijah on a perfect schedule.  Naps vary from day to day, some days filled with two 1 1/2 hour naps (the good days) and others I may only get 10 minutes (the not so good ones)!  I am a babywise failure.  I am not always consistent, even though I try to be and know this is important.  I go to a Bible Study every Tuesday morning during his naptime, MOPS every other Friday, and Church on Sundays...the poor kid doesn't even have a chance to stay regular in his schedule!

I don't do all the "essential" activities for early learning and development.  My deprived little man is not in a swim class, or music class, or a playgroup.  I don't intentionally "work with him" to be the first to develop every skill, be it physical or mental.  We have not started "Your Baby Can Read."  He does not yet know how to identify all of the presidents just by looking at their picture on a flash card...and for that matter, neither do I! (and I used to teach history, yikes!)

I'm not a perfect "babyproofer" and a little undercautious when it comes to germs.  Truth be told, Elijah pulled the lamp over the other day, and then while I was picking that up he pulled the vacuum over, all under my watch!  I have been known to pick up toys and pacifiers off the floor and hand them back to him if it keeps him happy.  I let him chew on my keys even though I know these are not the cleanest options. 

And finally, I am a nutritional failure when it comes to the first year.  While I have continued to nurse, our solid foods have been a little less than par.  I have fed my child store bought babyfood, and it is not even all organic!  Elijah has tasted pizza and hamburgers but has never had kale or beets or mustard greens.  And, worst of all he doesn't like bananas.  I mean really, what kid doesn't like bananas?

As I sat pondering all of my shortcomings as a mother, the tip of the iceberg those that I have listed here, I began thinking, "Why me, God?  Why did you give this precious, sweet, incredible little boy to me?  I don't deserve him and surely can't be a perfect mom to him?"  God, in the still quiet whisper of His voice, filled with compassion, grace, and love, reminded me of a very simple truth.  I am not perfect, but He is.  And while I, in and of myself, can never do it all, I trust in the One who has done it all.  He is my strength.  "God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." 2 Cor 5:21.  I am so very far from perfect, but in God's sight I am seen as righteous, not because of my works, but because of Christ.  Hallelujah. :) 

While I sat there rocking my sweet, sleeping boy (in sweats, unkempt hair, house a little messy, no makeup, laundry not put away, and dinner not gourmet), I was also reminded that God knows me.  He knows my strengths.  He knows my weaknesses.  He knows me so intimately because He made me, and He most of all is not shocked that I am not the perfect mom.  But he gave this child to me, specifically and intentionally to me, because no one, I repeat no one, could love him more.