My dad has always told me “be where you’re feet are.” And I’ve always rolled my eyes and moved along. My dad is the one always trying to teach life lessons. Trying to teach me to be patient, to not panic in stressful situations, to not cut corners when I turn while driving. Blah blah. I didn’t appreciate every lesson I should have growing up. But now, as a mom, the “being where your feet are” has suddenly hit me.
I’m the mom that constantly worries. The one who has anxiety. The one who struggles with working while my babies are little because I feel like I’m missing so much. The one who still does panic in situations. I am bad about “babying” my children too much and really bad about planning and organizing. The mom who makes my lists at night and pray it doesn’t get lost or forgotten. I’m the mom who 99% of the time does not know our weekend plans because it’s only Wednesday and I haven’t thought that far. So if all these are my weaknesses, you can only imagine how I am never where my feet are.
When I’m at work I think about my babies, when I’m with my babies, I’m thinking about night time routines to get us to next day, and making sure I reserve my grocery pick up order. On the occasional date night, I’m picking the restaurant that doesn’t have a wait time, and where the food usually arrives quick because I need to get home to put kids in bed and start laundry. I’ve tried to be the other mom. The organized planner with suppers and meals organized for the week, or even the month. It just doesn’t work for us. It doesn’t. Not in our current stage of life. It may one day. And I will look forward to that.
But there is something perfectly imperfect with coming to the realization that your routine might not be your best friends routine. Or your sisters routine. That it’s okay that my toy room looks like a F5 tornado went through It and I can’t pick it up because I’m almost 100% sure the bins the toys were originally supposed to go in, are broken. And my sister’s toy room looks like it belongs in a magazine. And right beside it, a family photo of them. And for a long time, a REALLY long time, all that bothered me. That I wasn’t that mom. I did a lot of comparing. A lot of crying. And then one day I actually heard my dads words. Be where your feet are. And I stopped. And I breathed. And I looked around at the toy room and laughed. And smiled at the laundry. And then played with the Kids. And read to them. And went on a date with my husband. And breathed. Because every stage of life is hard. Every stage. And it really is up to us to decide, and be confident, that we are enough. And if we want our children to also be confident in themselves, we must show them. We must not compare ourself to others. Because we don’t want them to do that.
Sometimes, in the stages of our life we don’t have the energy to BLOOM where we are planted. We only have the energy to BE where are feet are. And there is something so, so special about that.