I am not ready to be a #girlmom

I spent a lot of my younger years unsure of who I was. I pretended, and tried (way) too hard to be what I thought I should be, rather than who I actually was. (Because let’s be real, that Ducks Unlimited tag was not me…. and that camo steering wheel cover was DEFINITELY not me)

I wished to be different because different than me had to be better, and I lived in comparison. I listened to negative opinions both internally and external …. and absorbed. I didn’t understand my value, and I didn’t prepare for anything past the weekend. Don’t get me wrong, not all of this time was bad. I met my best friend, had some really great memories ( some I remember, some I was told about) and obviously had fun. I wouldn’t trade this time even with the struggle. Although, someone should have pointed me in the direction of a gym and away from the tanning bed because yikes!

I wish I could pinpoint when that all changed for me, but I can’t. I believe it was a mixture, a perfect storm. Maturity, humility, confidence and actually turning up the volume to God when he spoke to me. It’s crazy but I fell rock bottom before I started to rebuild, and in that rebuild I found who I was ( and whose I was). And even with all of this- I still always envisioned I would be better when I became a mom. I would be ready, “together” and prepared.

Being a boy mom is special, they love you like no other. You are their world- at least for the first few years. You want to raise strong, respectful and courageous men. That’s my goal … and I’m working on it. But I’ve never been a man and I’ve never navigated through those waters. There is a connection between a mother and daughter that is unique. I know on some level what a portion of her future holds, and as much as I want to keep the “bad parts” from her; I know I can’t.

Being a mother to a girl is something I wasn’t prepared to be. I always thought I would have so many things figured out before she got here. I would accomplish this grand list and become the perfect example for her. Until then, I wasn’t ready.

I wanted to know fearlessness. To pursue my goals, dreams and passions without fear of failure or second guessing. I wanted to be an example to her of passion and drive. To encourage her to get that pink streak in her hair, run that race, or take that course- because that’s what set her heart soaring.

I wanted to have it all figured out. My budget, my career; my life. I wanted to be her pillar of stability and strength. Her example of priorities, and maturity.

Before I became a girl mom, I was going to love my skin 100%. Embrace the stretch marks, jiggle, wrinkles and all that …. but instead I am not opposed to Botox, and am still searching for the best stretch mark cream. I have my bad days, and catch myself speaking quite nasty to myself.

I wanted to be the type of person who makes their bed every morning, and always eats breakfast. Who figured out the ultimate secret for juggling it all- work, home, family, gym and social. The kind of person who jumps to volunteer for special snacks at school, or hosts the instagram worthy dinner parties. But yet here I am, still none of those things.

I was going to have read all the parenting books, spoken to the right people and had a plan in place. The perfect antidote for bitches, immature boys, self doubt and hard life lessons. I wanted to know the right words to raise her to be strong, and confident but gentle and humble too.

I wanted to walk a road of kindness; always helping others. To demonstrate the importance of selfless acts of service, and being an open shoulder and ear to any that needed it. Instead I find myself looking the other direction more than I should.

I wanted to know the exact science to ensure my daughter walks her entire life with Christ. To never stray, never second guess her value, or never ignore his continuous outreaching arms for her.

Basically, for her to not be me.

As all mothers, I want so much for my children. I pray for their lives and the development of their souls. I want them to be so much better than me. And here I am, a mother to a daughter and I’m not ready, “together” or prepared.

I’m imperfect and none of the things I thought I would have figured out before my daughter arrived.

And to be honest, I’m terrified, not fearless. Terrified of not finding the right words when she needs it. I am terrified of the night she comes home in heartbroken tears because of a boy. Terrified for the first time her haven of innocence dissolves and she feels inadequate in the world. Because I’ve been there, and I know it’s coming.

I’ve heard my mom say many times, ” do the best you can.” And lately when I pray for my children, her words illuminate my thoughts. The best I can.

I don’t know about you, but being a mom makes me better. It lights this fire in me. Being a mom (to my two little nuggets) makes me curse more, pray more and love so much more. It scares me, challenges me and drives me even more.

I will never be perfect. I will never be together. **Goodness alive, that’s actually laughable if you know me in real life. I’m the conductor of the hot mess express pretty frequently.** I will never have all the right words, or the antidote to all the pain she will face.

But I do have love. I love her more than myself. I do have God’s ear as I pray over her each night. I do have encouragement as I cheer her on when she can’t. And I have my desire to do the best for my children I can every single day I’m alive.

You know, I may never be ready to be a girl mom and that’s okay. Because I’m more than a girl mom, I was created to be her mom. And I’m perfectly imperfect at it.