I Am Not Enough

     It is one of those mornings. You know what I mean. Murphy seems to be dancing on your head while everything goes totally wrong. With a baby on my hip, and a toddler at my other side, I barely manage to get my kids out the door to school, jumping into the drop off line, getting them to their class lines with mere seconds to spare. As I sit there and watch my kids trundle into school, with their disheveled hair that I forgot to brush, their mismatched socks that they dug out of the laundry, their clothing ensemble that looks like it was chosen at random by a blind person, and I think "wow... I am not organized enough."
     I roll through the grocery store with a grumpy infant, my three-year-old at my side trying to sneak random items into the cart every time my back is turned. I grab a box of cheese crackers and nestle them into the cart between the apples and the factory-produced, "I can't even pronounce half of these ingredients" commercially baked cookies. Passing me is a slim, trim, marathon running mom with a cart full of organic produce, locally baked five ingredient animal crackers, free-range turkey burgers, and bread baked from grain that has never seen so much as a drop of glyphosate in its short life. I think "wow, I am not feeding my kids well enough."
     Moving on to the library, I see the cute little moms sitting with their toddlers. The moms have perfectly coiffed hair, manicured nails, and outfits straight out of a trendy boutique. The toddlers have amazing hair designs that probably took an hour straight to compose, and I can't help wonder how the moms get their toddlers to sit still that long when I can barely get any of my kids to hold still long enough to brush out most of the big rats before declaring it a moral victory and setting them free. I think "wow, I will never look good enough."
     Reaching home, I set my toddler loose to wreak havoc on the family room, put the baby down for a nap, then crash on my comfy recliner amidst the mounds of clothing dubbed 'Mt Laundrysuvius'. Pulling out my phone, I idly scroll through social media, noting all the various posts about the latest study on infant sleep cycles, fifteen reasons why kids' shows are created by devil spawn, ten ways kids' shows are helping them to develop social skills, thirteen reasons why kids should never watch television at all, and I think "wow... I am  never going to know enough".
     The older kids come home from school and chaos ensues as they all vie for my attention. Snacks, television, homework, computer time, "you won't believe what the jerk at school did at recess today", and the inevitable "Mom, the science fair is tomorrow and I haven't even started my project!". I try to filter through the jumble of voices to figure out what actually needs to be done in that moment while giving my children enough attention that they know that I care about what they are saying. Meanwhile the hamster in my brain is running fast enough to break the sound barrier and begging for a break. I am ready to just snap at all of them "one at a time, I'm not Elastigirl!". Yet I know that snapping at them will break their hearts and give them the impression that mom just doesn't care. Enough of that, and the day will come when they won't want to speak to me at all. I can't help thinking "wow... I am just not patient enough".
     Evening finally rolls around. After the circus of baths, showers, spraying hair detangler, looking for lost stuffed animals, reading stories, brushing teeth, reminding older children about their reading homework that is more important than what their friends are posting, realizing that one of the kids skipped teeth brushing and chiding them to get out bed and go brush, rocking the infant to sleep just in time for their noisy older siblings to come bounding in and waking them up, and the exhausting start to the cycle all over again. After the chaos quiets, and the little heads finally nod into sleep, I fall onto the couch, fighting tears, and I think "I'm just not enough."
     A little body emerges from a bedroom and pads down the stairs. I am so ready to just scream, wanting a moment's peace, but I bite it back. Small arms wrap around my neck, a head leans on my shoulder, and I hear "I just wanted a hug. I love you so much, Mom."
     I'm not going to fight the tears anymore. I let them go, snuggling the little person that I brought into this world and have shepherded through every step of the first years of life. I feel so terribly inadequate, but to that little one, I am the most amazing person in the universe. I am everything to them. In their eyes, I am enough, and more.
     In truth... I am not enough. I will never be just 'enough'. I am so much more than that. Every hour of every day, I am learning and growing just as much as my kids are. Today, I was enough for what I needed to accomplish, and yet I am more than I was yesterday. Tomorrow, I will be more than I was today. I will be more than 'enough'. As my kids learn and grow, they need me to be 'more' in new ways, but not so much in others. 'Enough' changes and evolves just as much as I do. As much as they do. 'Enough' is not a destination, it is a journey.
     My 'enough' is different than anyone else's. They do not define my journey. I do. And as hard as the days can be, as exhausting as it can be to be so thoroughly responsible for so many people, it can and will be the most rewarding journey I could ever take. I am more than enough. All I have to do is remind myself of that often enough, and someday, perhaps, I may actually come to believe it.