good mom, bad mom, or in-between?

My mom, still to this day, wants to help all her kids achieve dreams, meet goals, avoid disappointments, and live in some level of happiness or contentment.  When I was trying to figure out which college to attend, how much we could afford, and navigate that part of my life's journey, I still remember my parents having conversations.  My mom would advocate on my behalf, saying to my dad, "Honey, this is her dream.  We have to make it work."  When I was planning my wedding, we saw this side of her again.  I had planned for an outdoor wedding, and as the date approached, the skies were looking more and more ominous.  As I tried to prepare for plan B, my mom seemed fixed on trying to make everything work for outside, against all odds.  I asked her why she was doing this, and she said, "Kelli, this is your dream!  We have to make it work!  When I told her that my dream was only to get married to my best friend, and that it didn't matter if it was inside or outside, she quickly jumped plans and helped me with the brand new set up.  I wouldn't say that my mom tries to keep me happy to an absurd degree, or fix all my problems.  She's not that hands-on, and is fully aware that life tosses us about and we get bruised along the way.  But she has always been the peacemaker, the advocator, the one who cancels her meetings and appointments to make sure we're getting what we need.  And I want to be that kind of mom.

Kelli's Dad and Mom

My kids, however, do try to make that difficult for me.  *laughs*  My sweet little guys have been through a lot.  I don't know that they consciously think about it that way.  They just are who they are.  But as adoptive moms and dad, we've been educated to know that all of their manipulation, compulsions, desires for control and order, all stem from the trauma they've experienced.  

My kids live in some world of disappointment.  I was telling a girlfriend of mine that a few weeks ago my husband, Ray, brought home a coupon book from Wendy's for free frostys!  One afternoon, I decided to pick the kids up from school and go get a free frosty instead of heading home to do homework.  We were on our way and the kids were excited and we order our frostys, and they hand us these little cups of icecream that are super-tiny.  My eldest immediately is disappointed and wishes we hadn't even driven there to get a frosty if this was all we were going to get.     And all of a sudden, what was meant for a super-fun mommy-son bonding time for the afternoon is crashed to pieces.  And I have this feeling, that I am coming to believe is completely from The Evil One, that I am a failure because I couldn't even get a little fun moment to happen.  I might as well have asked the kids to clean the house and get the same response.

But here is what I *just* have learned and am trying to process and commit to memory:

Whether or not I am a good mother, 

is not dependent upon whether or not 

my kids are happy, or even joyful.  

Whoa.  That's big for me.  It's even weird to put it into writing, the concept is so new.  And goodness knows that I do try to be a good mom.  I do try to make fun moments when I can, to cheer them up when their sad, to make things better.  I almost always fail, but it's completely new for me to see this not as a condemnation on my part, but is one more way that their hurt is evident in our lives.

But we're working on that together: healing.  And we're always making new strides, small steps and bigger ones.  And I look forward (SO MUCH) for the day when we can be the kind of family that God always dreamed for us.