No Time for That...

Yesterday at work, I was reading a story with one of my students. It was an Arthur book and I was having her practice her articulation sounds while she was reading. I was taking data on the sounds as she said them, writing pluses and minuses as she spoke each sound and taking notes while she was reading. When we got to the end I had her take an Accelerated Reader (AR) online reading test on the story. As I started to log her off, I asked her if it would be ok if I checked something really quick. I quickly typed in the name of the book that I had read with Amelia the night before, Mae the Panda Fairy. I wanted to see if it was an AR book so that Amelia could take the test on it at her school the next day. Then I asked if I could check one more book, a Magic Treehouse book. My student asked "Does Amelia just store up books before she takes the tests on them?" I explained to her that we had read each of those books in the two previous nights. My student's mouth dropped open. "You read that fairy book in one night?" I answered that we had. And then she asked, "And Tonight on the Titanic?" I replied that we had read that the night before together. "In one night?" I smiled and said that, yes, we had read each of those books in one night. That we really enjoy reading together and sometimes when the book is really good, we can't stop reading. She looked me in the eyes and said, "My mom does not have that kind of time for me."

My heart broke. I sat there and pictured their household and my poor little student sitting alone in the corner of her bedroom, most likely playing some electronic device...alone. And I began to judge that family. How could they? They have these precious gifts given to them by God and they don't have time to read a simple book to this little girl. And then I stopped and my breath quickly left me. I was ashamed. For that little girl could have very well been my little girls in certain snapshots in time. 

My closest friends know. They know my struggle. They know that I have literally been to hell and back over the last few years. They know that it took every ounce of energy I had in my being to make it to work and look as normal as possible. They know that I sat at my desk at work and worked with children while inside my soul was shattered with grief. My brain was fried with seizures and seizure medications. And when I came home I had given everyone else's children my all, and my own were not as lucky. 

My mom and dad know that many nights I would call them to give the girls a bath, and put them to bed because I didn't feel well. Marilyn knows that sometimes we lived out of piles of laundry because that was the last thing on my mind. Michelle knows that toys would pile up on the floor throughout our house and I didn't have the strength to pick them up. But that I could lay on the floor in the pile of toys next to my children and think that I was being a good mom and spending quality time with my children. Melody knows I walked through days like a zombie, summoning the strength to smile and act like I had it all together in front of others. But honestly? Grief is exhausting. It physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually hurts. And also suffering with uncontrolled seizures added another layer. And then add in that being that vulnerable opens the door to demons to come in and suck away whatever peace and joy you have left. Who am I to judge?

Who are any of us to judge? I know that talking to other moms I am not alone in my inadequacies. We all have those moments where we just can't. But I judge every day! Like yesterday with the mom that doesn't read a whole book to her daughter! Or talking to a teacher about how horrible it is that this kid never does his homework. If he just had a mom who cared. Or the little ones who come to school every day wearing the same sweatshirt that just gets dirtier and dirtier. I've stood with colleagues and talked about "those moms" when in reality, there's a pretty blurry line between "those moms" and me in certain points of my life. In certain points of all our lives, I imagine. 

And yet, our children love us. Dote on us. Want nothing but our love and approval. And even though I was a hot mess for many years of their little lives, my two beautiful daughters still love me and want me and depend on me and think that I am the best mom in the whole world.

I  am lucky! I get a second chance! A second chance to love the two little gifts that God has given me. A second chance to read to them and do homework with them. A second chance to start over and make up for lost time. 

Many times I cry and feel guilty about the existence I was giving my babies. I feel terrible that I wasn't always present with my girls in every second of every day. I grieve over the lost years from the past, when my babies were so young and I was in such turmoil. But I can't!

My Heavenly Father was with me for each and every second of those darkest days, holding me in His loving arms and carrying me through the days I couldn't walk myself. He was with my babies, keeping them safe and warm. Sending us earthly angels to take care of all of us. Friends and family that were there for our darkest hours, our most difficult moments. 

I could dwell on the past. I could continue to feel terribly about how non-functional I might have been in some of those moments. I could kick myself and never forgive myself the difficulties that we faced. But I am forgiven. And it's time to embrace that forgiveness and be the best I can currently be for my sweet girls. 

Don't judge! We are all fighting battles. Grief. Pain. Addiction. Illness. Divorce. Rape. Suicide. Death. Cancer. I'd like to believe, besides in cases of abuse and neglect, we do the very best we can as parents. And if we have moments where we are not our best, we ask for help from our Heavenly Father, forgive ourselves and move forward. 

We could hold it over ourselves forever. Judge other parents as we struggle on our own. Beat ourselves up for our past mistakes. But why would we do that? No time for that...