This weekend I’m trying really hard to be the mama

IN the moment,

NOT the mama

RUSHING the moment,

and though I’m not sure I’m over here succeeding,

I sure as hell am I trying.

And that counts for something right?

And it’s pretty much all us mothers can do.

Try.

Day,

after day,

after day,

to improve upon ourselves so that we can be better for our little people and so that we can appreciate our little people before they are not so little anymore.

Spoiler alert: It’s happening incredibly fast.

But also served up fast is my

six-year-old’s incessant talking,

my eight-year-old’s gripes and complaints,

and my ten-year-old’s mood swings.

And so I STRUGGLE.

To stay calm,

grateful,

joy-filled,

and present in all moments and to keep from rushing the less than bucket-filling ones.

But here’s what I’ve come to know…

I’m doing my best.

And the reality is,

so are they.

Neither of us is perfect, so we can’t expect our days to be.

What it is we can expect our days and ourselves to be is authentic,

and, truly,

that’s important.

I’d rather spend all my days as a family full of follies than as a family faking it, ya know?

The concept of a ‘perfect family’ is just that,

a concept.

A REAL perfect family is just group of related by blood or love humans who,

at the end of the day,

would throw you on their life raft if y’all were on the Titanic and it was sinking.

As the eternally frazzled co-captain of this often-off-course ship of mine,

I’m not always sure where we’re sailing,

but I know that if we’re together,

we’re good and no other sh*t matters.