Mediocre Mom Mondays: My First Confessions


Mediocre is an absolute compliment lately, y’all! I am failing at mom-ing around every corner. I won’t even talk about how much I’ve been failing at just adult-ing. I can’t adult. I can’t mom. I can’t wife. I can’t me. My mediocre moments are many, so allow me to highlight just a couple. Just a couple…so I can save face just a little and so you won’t laugh so hard at me that you spill your coffee. Because…coffee. If you’re new to Mediocre Monday, hop over to read the intro here!


I was so mediocre last week that Pinterest wouldn’t even let me login. Facebook didn’t want to see my face. Twitter told me to go tweet to a different flock. Instagram wouldn’t insta-anything. Duolingo said one language was enough. I was pretty tired of me, too.

I don’t think I got more than a couple showers all week. Gross. We had way too many days of just brunch and supper because of way late starts which led to way late ends. No mom enjoys 11pm tuck-in time. We had way too much yelling and arguing and tears from all 7 of us. Our food wasn’t gluten free like it’s supposed to be. It wasn’t all healthy. In fact, there were a couple McDonald’s visits and way too many sweets. We skipped a few too many subjects for me to feel accomplished and I simply can’t bare to share a picture of my laundry room. Let’s just say my husband went out to buy me something to organize the clean clothes before I get to folding them…. so we can, you know…have a place to sit in the living room. I was yelling at kids. Kids were yelling at me. Kids were yelling at each other. I cried. They cried. It’s been a week to forget. The one thing that comes with the gift of connective tissue disease is pain. Lots of pain. So much so that sometimes I don’t even realize it’s there because it’s just so normal. Not because it doesn’t hurt, but because I don’t remember what it feels like to not hurt.  And, mediocre me, I sometimes forget the fact my kids have it, too.

That moment this past week that I sat down frustrated at the table, after lunch, still surrounded by breakfast dishes and lunch mess, was a moment of weakness. I’ve found my at least when it comes to the guilt knowing I’ve passed this on to my kids. I remind myself at least they’re learning empathy, compassion, perseverance. Amidst the arguing and attitudes, between breaths of backtalking and balking, the kids saw me reach out honestly to them, probably for the first time. {I’m an emotion-bottler} I told them I know I’m not being a good mom, and they’re out of control, and that I don’t know what came first: the chicken or the egg. Was it me causing their attitudes or them causing mine? I looked them over and asked them to please just give me a little grace because I hadn’t slept in what felt like days and was hurting so, so bad.

I thought I’d have to be the world’s best mom to get the pampering I got that day. Instead, my kids stopped all their bickering, balking, and backtalking all springing into action as if they’d communicated telepathically. One walked me to my bed, one grabbed the baby, another grabbed a face pillow for me, and they all piled into my bed. I was surrounded by warm, dirty little hands all over my legs, hands, and back while they did their bests to rub away my aches and pains.

Their reactions made being mediocre mom okay again. Not that we want to have those kinds of days very often! It showed me they really, truly are learning those good things good parents try incredibly hard to teach their kids. They were learning empathy, compassion, and perseverance. It wasn’t my efforts and successes that were teaching it to them. Y’all…. my mediocrity and failure were teaching it to them. My suffering. Their suffering. Our bad days. You don’t learn to empathize with the hurt or brokenhearted by never experiencing or witnessing it yourself. And even bigger, grace. How can any of us experience grace without failure first? That’s what they gave me. Grace. A huge, gigantic dose of grace. Something I really didn’t deserve at all, but I guess that’s exactly what makes it grace.

God makes beauty from ashes. Our ashes. Those hot, burning ashes can even turn the nastiest junk into something that purifies and deep cleans us even at our dirtiest. {We learned about the pioneers making lye soap from animal fat and ashes last week!} When you catch your breath, strive for better days, but rejoice in your failure and mediocrity, too, knowing you’ll soon witness the beauty God brings from it. Those mediocre moments are somehow exactly what makes us the best moms in the world for our kids.


It’s okay to be okay! And it’s even better to share about it. 😉 Here’s to showing how marvelous it is to be a mediocre mom in a pinterest-perfect world.






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