Taking the Penance out of Mistakes

Well, I've been neglecting this blog.  And the only reason for it is that things got busy.  Good busy, then bad busy, then nasty busy.  This blog was not the first thing to go (see, first, social life, dates with D, cooking) but it is, in the end, expendable.

I actually felt a lot of guilt for letting this one thing slide.  I felt like I was letting people down (all two of you who read this).  And I had a plan to come back to the blog with a new declaration.  I was going to apologize for my neglect and promise to be diligent in the future.  To force myself to do this thing that I had just (just now!) found a step too far.  As if I should force myself into doing too much.

I didn't do it for a long time.  I wasn't sure what words to use, or whether it was even the right thing to do.  And most of all, I didn't want to.  I didn't want to force myself into overcommitting.  Not only that, I didn't want this space to feel like a penance.

And I realized that so many things in mothering seem to require penance.

Without penance, guilt, regret, shame, none of the small mistakes we make every day feel excusable.  We are only excused from our failures by our heartbreak over them, and by our promise to push ourselves way beyond our means in the future.

So I'm going to try not to do that anymore.  Instead of promising that I'll write a blog post every day, that I'll have more patience with my kids, that I won't yell again or feel bored while playing with animal toys, that I'll do more crafts with Penny or read more to Mabel, I'm going to promise to let things slide when they need to, forgive myself for the millions of tiny failures, let the past stay there, and move ahead without fear of messing up again.

I know I'll mess up again.   I'll lose track of this blog.  I'll get mad at Penny for something that's not her fault.  I'll leave Mabel in a dirty diaper for way too long.  It's so much worse when that future mistake also carries the promise of heartache, worry and shame.  But it's not so bad if the mistakes I know are coming can be learning lessons, inevitable outcomes of growing and changing and doing new things.  Something to laugh at, take note of, and fold into my pocket.  

Show me a mom who doesn't berate herself for small failures and I'll show you a mom who's doing it right.  After all, I can't think of a much better gift for a child than to be taught fearlessness in the face of failure.

So I'm going to keep writing here, but not when I can't.  And then, again, when I can.