Making Realistic Mom Goals | What's Enough?

I always wanted to be the fit mommy. The kind that runs behind her little jogging stroller; killing her early morning workout. 

Today I think of her; that woman I want to be.

I’m quietly listening to my morning yoga video. Normally, I find yoga comical and pathetic. Right now it feels amazing - just to relax. 

I hear the calm, whispery voice of the instructor. “…Child’s pose…..”

I see the bright realization in my little girl’s eye across the room. I know what she’s thinking. 

That smile is my chagrin. But my chagrin is the reluctant kind - with a tinge 

of happiness staining the corners. 

Here she comes.

Relaxing into the stretch I realize that this is, without doubt, The Children’s Pose. In the most plural sense of the word.

“…thread the needle…toward the sky…”

Oh, that little smile. Small hands, reaching. 

She climbs into my lap. Her safe place. Her happiness. Her Mama. 

And I give up. 

Again. 

I catch a glimpse of that woman who I want to be, still running hard behind her cute little stroller. I waive as she passes me. 

Feeling my warm, snuggling baby, I reflect a little. 

This is why I live - To support. To give comfort. To raise up. 

This is why my freshly mopped floors are smudged and gritty already. 

This is why I don’t sit down all day. 

This is why I fall into bed exhausted at night. 

And it’s enough.

To be everything to these little lives is more meaningful than any pay check I could ever bring home - any job that I could do. 

To bandage their skinned knees and wipe the dripping tears for “The least of these, God’s little ones…” How can I despise this? 

To teach the generation of tomorrow that God is still real and unchanging in the face of a world that tries hard to say He’s not - that’s worth every workout that I miss; every bit of interrupted “alone time” that I’ll have to reluctantly abandon. 

To know that I’m loved, as their sweaty-hot arms wrap around my neck in the sticky heat of July, means more than being able to go to clothes shopping allllll daaayyyy whenever I want. 

To laugh with unfathomable happiness over the little things they say and do as they shape into the people who will shape the world someday …. that’s more than getting to finish my lunch without sharing a bite with someone else. 

It’s enough. 

More than enough. 

Turning from my reflection, my two year old has found my schedule and pulled it off of the fridge door - along with all of the alphabet magnets. The one year old is crying. I need a shower. I need to pick out church clothes for tomorrow. I’d love a break - but I love them more. 

And that’s enough. 

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Making Realistic Mom Goals | What's Enough?