What makes a "Good Mom"? (Asking for a Step-Mom Friend, ME. I'm the friend.)
I hope yesterday brought love, peace, and maybe a well-earned mimosa or two to all you mothers out there, to those being celebrated, and to those quietly holding it down, not needing a fanfare. Whether your celebration was in person, in memory, or simply in spirit, I hope you were in touch with all the feels.
Mother's Day always stirs something in me. It can be a tough day. This year, it stirred up a big, messy, emotional goulash. I've been thinking (like REALLY thinking) about what makes a good mother. A great one, even. I keep seeing all these "Best Mom Ever" posts, and part of me smiles a big, huge, genuine smile. The other part thinks, "Damn, we ALL must have the best mom ever. That's a lot of bests. That's also a lot of PRESSURE." Which, if I'm being honest, is also quite beautiful. Right?
But then the deeper part of me starts asking: what does make a good mother?
Is it love? Is it patience? Is it self-sacrifice? Does it require a color-coded chore chart and homemade granola?
I try SO hard to be a good step-mom. Let me say this - if loving the kids were enough, I'd be writing this post from the "Step-Mom of the Year" award ceremony. (Black tie optional, tissues required.) However, I've learned - sometimes the hard way - that love isn't always enough.
That is a BRUTAL truth to type - to admit, even to myself.
Because I DO love them. With my whole heart. I love them in the way where my chest tightens if they're hurting. I love them enough to question every decision I make. I love them enough to stay up at night replaying conversations, wondering if I handled something right. I love them enough to feel like my identity has slowly rewritten itself in their presence. I love them enough to write this post.
And still - I wonder. Is that enough!?
I think about the incredible mothers in my life - my own mom, my bonus mom, my grandmothers, my great-grandmothers, the village of women who showed up for me when I needed someone to step in because I was being, shall we say, a bit "extra". The harsh truth is, there is no formula. There's no checklist of universal traits that amount to a "Great Mom."
Some of the best mothers I know have watched their kids struggle, spiral, or make choices that broke their hearts. It wasn't because of a lack of love. It wasn't because they didn't try hard enough. It just happened. Life is messy. Kids are complicated. Parenting isn't a science; it is an experiment in unconditional love, conducted without a control group.
Add step-parenting in the mix, and it gets even murkier.
I spend a ton of time wondering how different parenting styles impact our kids. My approach is, well, VERY different from their mom's. From my perspective, it isn't just different - it's damaging. It's controlling. It's painful to witness. But here's the complicated part: I don't think she sees it that way. I don't think she MEANS harm or to hold them back. In fact, I am certain she believes she is doing the right thing. The "good mom" thing. Maybe even the "best mom" thing.
Maybe I'm the one who is wrong. Maybe my perspective is skewed. Maybe it's both - I hate to think about it being both.
That's the maddening beauty of this role. It's never black and white. It's full of "maybes" and "what ifs" and nights where you stare at the ceiling wondering if you're screwing it all up - if you're screwing THEM up.
Neither of us gave birth to these kids. We both chose them. I chose them later, as part of a package deal with Brad, and I chose to love them like they are my own. Every bit of me says they are. But sometimes I question my place. My voice. Do I have the right to feel what I feel? To intervene? To guide? To critique?
Brad and I are aligned - thank God! But even with that unity, I still wrestle with how to show up in a way that's strong, supportive, and truly meaningful. I want to empower these kids, advocate for them, nurture their independence, and cheer on their unique characteristics. I want them to feel wildly loved and deeply known. Augh, and most days, I have no idea if I'm doing it "right".
But I DO know I care. I know I am trying. I know my love is real, and loud, and stubborn - and I am here for it!
I guess maybe that's where we start. Maybe being a great mom-step or otherwise - isn't about perfection or influence or always being right. Maybe it's about showing up, again and again, in love. Even when it hurts, actually, especially when it hurts.
If you're in this weird, blurry in-between, too, loving kids who aren't legally yours, navigating complicated co-parenting dynamics, wondering where your role begins and ends - I see you feel you. I'm with you. You are not alone!
And you're probably doing a hell of a lot better job than you think!
Keep going!
