Is my best really good enough?

A friend made a comment to me that has left me thinking. I don’t know if I’d say that she “rocked my world”, but she certainly has given me pause to reflect on what I’m doing with my children and myself.

I asked how things were going, to which she replied, “Well, you know, it can be hard. All the kids need such different things that sometimes it’s hard to keep up.”

I heard what she said. I let it sink in. I didn’t really have an initial reaction, but I couldn’t get that phrase out of my mind all day long. Anytime a busy thought didn’t require 100% of my brainpower, her comment kept echoing in the back of my head.

Is that what I’m showing my kids? Is that what I’m doing to myself? Is that what I’m doing to them?

I ask this when the first comment out of my mouth in the morning, upon seeing my children, is “Go get your clothes on for school.” Not “Good Morning!” or “Did you sleep well?” or “Ri-ise, and shi-ine, and give God the glory! Glory!” No, instead I give out orders on their personal hygiene.

I ask myself this when we are at the store and I have lost track of one of my children. I have gotten so wrapped up in finding the aisle with the Ziploc bags and getting the coupon out of my purse and kissing a boo-boo that I have not noticed a child straying away from the cart. Before I know it I’m counting one, two, three, four… where’s four? WHERE’S FOUR? I ask myself, do I know where that fourth child is? Did they tell me where they were going while I wasn’t paying attention?

And, I make no apologies nor do I ask for any condolences. My life is what it is. Personally, I love having a lot of kids. It has filled our home and my heart with love. Yes, it’s chaotic at times. Yes, I sheepishly admit, there are times that it crosses over from chaotic to dangerous. Yes, I would probably do a better job if I never left the house with all 4 children at one time. But, if we’re out of Children’s Motrin and somebody has a fever while Daddy’s at work, then it looks like we’re all taking a quick trip to Walgreen’s. And if I need milk on the way home from school pick-up, I am just going to stop and get it because the idea of going all the way home and then dragging everyone out again later is too exhausting to think about. But I do my best.

My best. What is my best? Is my best really good enough? I hope it is. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe my intentions are good but my practices stink. Really, I’m a nice person. But being nice doesn’t make me responsible.

Birthing 4 children doesn’t make me a pro at child rearing; it only makes me a pro at carrying a baby to term. And loving my children doesn’t mean I’m any good at teaching them. Most days I’m way too lenient. I always thought I’d be so great at laying down the law and making my kids toe the line. But in reality, I get pretty worn down by the constant assault of whining, crying, fighting, pouting, and tattling. At least they aren’t giving me any smart talk.

There it is. I have been worn thin. It makes me feel so… defeated, like I didn’t have the coordination to keep all the balls in the air that I’m juggling.

It feels like it’s a choice – to be worn thin. Even if I am worn thin, do I need to show it? And, if I need to show it, do I have to wear it like a badge of honor? Wouldn’t it be more honorable to be a quiet servant to my family?

What, then, is a reflection of me? My home? My personal appearance? My attitude? My habits? My principles? All of the above? If I face the truth, I’ll admit I’m kinda stretched thin in all those areas. Maybe that’s just who I am. Maybe that’s just who I am right now, but it will change later. Or, maybe that’s who I’ve always been and I’m just facing it now.

Who knows.