Perhaps it’s ok to not always ‘get it right’.
To have a night off healthy eating because I’m just too exhausted to cook.
Perhaps it’s ok to not always be strong for you, even though I try.
To break down and cry in front of you in my moment of weakness, to feel your soft but unsure little kiss saying, “you’re better now mummy”.
Perhaps it’s ok you’re the first aid kit to my heart too.
Perhaps it’s ok to not always say the ‘right thing’.
“Good Job”, “You’re beautiful”, “Share”.
To feel like I’m on a stage and I’ve forgotten my lines.
While I respect that language matters, some things have been picked apart so much their meanings have been reinvented.
Perhaps it’s ok to do what feels natural for us.
To let you fall asleep on me, with me, because I know you’ll decide when you don’t need the safety of my presence to drift off anymore.
And you will.
Perhaps it’s ok to follow a schedule, or not to, to turn on the TV when I need to get something done.
To do what I need to, to make it work for you, even if it’s not what works for someone else.
Perhaps it’s ok to admit this parenting gig is hard.
Because admitting it doesn’t make me any less of a mother. It’s noisy out there and there’s a lot of guilt, there’s so many opinions. No wonder mothers are exhausted.
Perhaps it’s ok to not fit into a box or label my style of parenting.
To not be a robot, I had no labels on me before becoming a mother, I don’t need one now.
Perhaps I haven’t ruined you for life because I haven’t always said the right thing.
Perhaps it’s ok for you to see me make mistakes.
And perhaps, just maybe, you’ll grow up to be human too.