Perhaps my work as a mother is less about doing everything right and more about accepting where each of us is at the moment.
Embracing myself and my family, with all of our flaws.
This weekend Lupine and I picked berries and made a batch of jam.
And as I stood back and watched her filling the steaming jars with our creation I was struck by how capable she is. How confident.
How unconcerned with false measures of success or failure, perfect or imperfect – and anything in between.
I saw passion, enthusiasm, and a steady confidence even I could do with a bit more of.
Absent was self-judgement and criticism. Absent was the worry that she might get jam on her clothes or that the jars may be uneven.
Just patient focus, pure joy, and a love of the work before her.
There are days when I see only my own flaws. Mornings I wake with regret for not having done better the day before. For not having been, well – more perfect.
And a new day begins with old regrets.
If my only success as a mother is teaching you that your best is good enough and you are worthy of love for simply being who you are, then I think I've done my job.
Especially if it is a lesson I also take for my own.
This notion that even though you will be messy and imperfect, that the work you choose to do is still worth doing if you pour yourself into it with an open heart.
Maybe my work as a mother is less about being perfect myself, and more about embracing you – and me – with open arms. Imperfections and all.