My girls have gotten older. This means they have friends on facebook. And access to the world wide web. And can see things I post. I can't tell you how many times it took for them to get angry with me for posting "unapproved pics" before I finally wised up and stopped.
Parenting is hard. Just because I don't post the hard stuff, doesn't mean things are a piece of cake. Just the other morning, I found myself having an ugly cry about how I messed up and how clueless I was on what to do.
I fail. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I yell. I ignore. I speak sarcastically...way more fluently than I should. I don't always believe the best. I push too hard. I focus on what needs to be corrected instead of what's being done well. And yes, I even roll my eyes...a lot (wish I could say my girls got that character trait from their dad).
I read a post a few years ago from a middle school mom that basically said the same thing, but much more eloquently. If I could find it, I'd post it instead of mine. But I can't, and I felt this urgency to post SOMETHING to let other mamas know they are not alone.
I hear it whispered or talked about in a private place--while they furtively look over their shoulders to make sure others aren't listening. They feel the same way I do. Not wanting to give up, but not sure what steps to take. Mamas who believe in Jesus and mamas who don't. Mamas who search the Bible and Christian blog posts and mamas who look to the leading psychologists. And mamas who do all of the above at different stages--grasping for an answer.
I wish I had one for them and for me. I wish God would speak to me in very clear voice and tell me "Hey, before you say that thought in your head, here's what you need to know is going on in your daughter's head right now." or "Ummm...Angel, patience comes from me and you haven't talked to me at all today. How do you think you are going to cope with a moody tween without it?" or even better, "Angel, this is EXACTLY how you need to handle this"--down to the steps doled out to me in recipe form (Make sure your room temp is at 72. Rub your daughter's back. Try not to stir too quickly or she will become whipped instead of blended).
Alas, it doesn't really work that way. (Ok--who still uses the word "Alas" when they talk? I started to take it out, but it sounds right here and makes me sound like a deep thinking kind of blogger so it's staying in).
Anywhoooo, for now, I will continue to be vague and not post the hard stuff that would embarrass my family. I will keep posting the chicken blogs, the pics of the things my family does that I'm proud of, the goofy thoughts that come into my head that need to find an audience who will appreciate them more than hormonal teenagers, the #itsaroyallife hashtag. Because those things are real, too. As real as the hard times. And sometimes, we just need to grasp onto and celebrate the times when things are going well because, there's enough other times to keep us down.