Mexican Galette with Roasted Red Pepper, Black Beans and Avocados
I met a lady at the grocery store yesterday who was 92. She was fabulously healthy and spry, you would never have known she was born in the 1920’s.
We started to chat about my daughter. After a few minutes she said, "You’re a good woman. I can tell. And you’re a good mom." I wanted to stop and tell her about the Cheerios on the floor of car, and how some days she stays in pajamas until noon and how since I work from home, there are so many times I have to say, "Mommy’s busy," when she wants me to sit on the couch and watch Mickey’s Clubhouse but I haven’t photographed the tart yet and it’s withering.
Why is it so hard for us to accept a mom-compliments? Why is it so hard to see that we are doing well, see that not being perfect doesn’t mean that you still aren’t doing great?
When someone tells me that they love my recipes, I’m thrilled. If someone tells me I’m a great mom, I want to protest.
Maybe we all need to hear it more often. Maybe you need to hear it as much as I do. You and I aren’t that different, but I hope you find a way to believe this, even if I haven’t:
You’re doing great. Cheerios on the floor means you thought that your kid might want a snack on the way to the park, and cared more about that, than the floor of your SVU.
Taking a moment to yourself means you give so much all day, you need to recharge so that you can give some more.
Your kid in pajamas at noon just means you saw that they were having a good time, and didn’t want to interrupt with something as silly as a wardrobe change.
Putting your kids in front of the TV so you can sit down to talk to your spouse is a great way to show your kids how much you care about that relationship, showing them that their parents love each other.
When you go to bed at night, reliving the days events and focusing on the failures, remember that your kids aren’t. They remember the park, the macaroni and the bed time story. They think you’re doing great, and so do I.