Here we are again, friends. The brink of a New Year. My newsfeed is full of positive manifestations for the next trip around the sun. Resolutions to run that half-marathon. Cook dinner more often. Hit the gym with regularity. Read.
Most years, I'm right there with them. In my mind, I've conjured a list five miles long—of all the things I hope to accomplish in the next year. Versions of my best self. Habits to make me a better mother, a better wife, a better friend and a better fit for these snug jeans.
But this year, I'm laying it all down.
The truth is, I'm in the weeds. I'm in the when-will-my-kids-sleep-again weeds. I'm in the lots-of-little-kids-with-lots-of-big-needs weeds.
I am knee-deep in picky eaters, dirty diapers, temper tantrums, health issues and repetitive dinners.
This is not my year to run a marathon. This is not my year to drink two gallons of water a day, or to make healthy, home-cooked meal every night, or serve on all of those committees. It is my year to survive.
This is my year to sleep when I can. To give myself grace, always. To embrace the mess.
I think, as mothers, we put a great deal of pressure on ourselves, whether we realize it or not. Small imperfections during the day equate to our shortcomings in our own mind. Messy house? I should clean more. No clean socks? I'm way behind on laundry. Kid acts out in school? I let him watch Frozen too often.
We need to stop. I need to stop.
The reality is this: my kids don't need a mom who looks great in leggings right now. Or a mom who makes individualized quiches for all the kids in class. They need a mom who does her best to love them well—imperfections and all.
So this year, if you need it (spoiler alert: you almost definitely do)—give yourself grace. Some years aren't meant to be record-breaking. Some years are meant to survive.