to the mom who feels like a loser…

The 5:00 blinks at me from the microwave clock.

The kids are antsy and my husband is on his way home and it’s that time of day again: the time to start dinner.

I hope I don’t mess it up, I catch myself thinking.

I have such high cooking aspirations but my meals always seem to flop in one way or another. All of my aspirations feel like that, to be honest.

I’m waiting for the day I wake up and have it. The homemaker mojo.

It’s the day I’ll know how to mend a button or not overcook dinner. The day I plan ahead before leaving the house and pack that extra diaper, change of clothes, or snack… even if I feel like I don’t need it.

(you always need it)

One day I’ll have the right answers to the hard questions my child asks about life and the right encouragement for my husband after a long day. One day I’ll load the dishwasher properly and finally get around to dusting X,Y,Z.

So much of my life I’ve felt like a loser. Either not doing enough or not doing anything right. And I still tend to feel that way, down to my bones, this very day.

I’m just not a natural at things. I still look at a crying baby (my crying baby) and panic a little. I still look at the coupling of ingredients in my refrigerator and struggle to put a meal together. I still read the back of the toilet bowl cleaner because bleach terrifies me and is it really safe to use that stuff?

People ask me questions I should know the answers to because I am the wife! I am the mom! I run the house! But I clam up. I forget everything. I feel like a little kid.

Insecure. Incompetent. Loser.

I long for confidence. The knowledge of a seasoned wife and mom who can handle all of life’s curveballs and can run her household with peace and ease. I can’t tell you how many books and blogs I’ve read on cooking and cleaning and mothering so I can try to improve any lacking skills. Some of it sticks. Most of it doesn’t.

I fight the urge to cry when my husband makes the harmless comment that his clothes are wrinkled or smell sour. Another failure!

I beat myself up when we are out in public and the baby poops. “Didn’t you put the wipes back in the diaper bag?” They ask. I did not. Why didn’t I? I’m such an idiot.

I can still remember the first time I could not soothe my crying infant. It seemed like anybody but me would be a better mother for my poor, helpless girl— like my daughter herself didn’t even want someone as inexperienced and incompetent as me.

But on the flip side, I can also remember weeping with joy the first time I was the only thing she wanted. When I was the only person that could calm her. The feel of her little body as she relaxed in my arms in relief.

I think one of the bigger lies out there today is that everyone knows what they are doing. I mean, we certainly want everyone to think so. I know I do.

So many of life’s practices get better with time and experience. And to gain experience, one must fail a time or two (or fifty). And even when you are considered “seasoned” or a “pro”, you are still going to make mistakes.

Mistakes are okay. I think so many of us grew up in a generation where they were not.

This is where the beautiful gift of grace comes in. Grace for ourselves, and grace for others.

I question myself and why I am so terrified to fail. Why I long so hard to be perfect. Why I continue to believe the above lies that I am a loser and not a natural at anything. Why I am so afraid to let others see me mess up. I guess it is pride? Maybe something more specific? I’m not sure, but I am trying to make myself sit with it and unlearn the tendency.

Some days I nail it.

Most days I do not.

And those days remind me I am not perfect. Which is a good thing.

Because only God is.

What the Enemy whispers to me and what others may say or think about me cannot become my inner script. Allowing that to happen is sinful, and it prevents me from living my life for the Glory of One— the One who lived and died for me and set me free from the chains of perfectionism. He loves me. He loves you. And he doesn’t base our worth on the quality of the dinner we put on the table or our ability to switch the laundry in a timely fashion. He does give us the strength and wisdom to pick ourselves up, and try again tomorrow.

Perfection is not the standard. Growing in godly excellence is. And that looks very different for every person in every walk of life. Ask God to show you what lies you have been believing about yourself and ask Him to help you fight them with the truth.

You aren’t a loser. You’re loved. Go make dinner.

-e