We don’t get to pick what our kids will remember about us. Even though I would like to have an awesome mom “thing” to be remembered by (much like Ross in Friends, not wanting to be known as the divorcing guy), I don’t have much say in the matter.
I would love for my kids to recount stories of the sweet birthday traditions their mom would pull off, but I swear their birthdays change dates each year and sneak up on me. Having my kids recount stories of the beautifully-colored summer bucket lists that led to unforgettable adventures would be such a dream. However, in reality, my creative juices are a little diluted.
We don’t have a special meal we cook together or regular game nights, I won’t be remembered for having an organized house or a sweet nightly ritual. When I used to picture myself as a mom, I would picture myself effortlessly doing all of those things. I have had to admit to myself that I am not the mom I pictured myself being.
Does this mean that they won’t remember me? Of course not. Does it mean that they don’t feel loved? Heck no! I have realized that not having a fun mom “thing” or being the mom I always pictured myself being, doesn’t mean I am not enough. It just means it’s not my thing.