Even the Happiest Moms Cry Sometimes

I’ve been reading Meagan Francis’ new book, The Happiest Mom (look for a review & giveaway on Tuesday), and feeling pretty confident that although my life is (crazy) busy, I am, in fact, a happy mom. Some days I need to dig deep to find that contentment, but it’s there.

I’m struck at the most random moments with gratitude for healthy, thriving children, a husband with a secure job, and a variety of choices on how to spend my time.

summer thunderstorm by davedehetre

{photo credit: David DeHetre}

But sometimes I also become overwhelmed at the daily frustrations of maneuvering five people through a 24-hour period. As good as my children are, as capable as they can be, as few “real” challenges as we have in the overall scheme of things, it’s a rare day when I don’t have to persuade, bribe, threaten, coerce, nag, or even beg any one of them to do what needs to be done.

Homework, showers, chores, turning off the tv, computer, DS, whatever – it’s hardly ever a do-it-and-done process.

It’s enough to make a happy mom cry.

What are those tears all about? Well, for me, it’s about the fear that I’m not commanding enough respect from my kids, the worry that they’ll never be sufficient enough to take care of themselves, and just the sheer frustration that this mothering thing has to be so dang hard.

Please, tell me I’m not the only one who occasionally feels this way? Or at least be kind and lie to me.

I’m a happy mom, but the same way thunderstorms can blow through a bright summer sky, I absolutely have my moments.

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