I must be doing something right.

That’s easy. No. I’m a mom. I am a “superwoman”. I am “such a special parent”. I am also freakin' exhausted.

There is so much pressure in life to be the best. To have everything, be everything. It’s societal and internal. It’s baked into womanhood in so many ways.

I wish it were easier. I wish the days didn’t pass by at the speed of light. I wish my kids would just slow down a beat to let me catch my breath and enjoy each moment. But I’m on to the next thing they need as quickly as they are.

There are days when I lose my shit. There are times when I feel overwhelmed and overstimulated. Like my brain and my body can’t take one more thing. I want to say no to all of the sounds. To shut each one of them out like I’m closing a cabinet door. Just removed from my vision and let my senses heal. In these moments I wish for silence. Just one moment of peace before the next thing happens that needs a reaction from Mom.

But then, the days when things are busy are sort of better than the days when I don’t have much going on because my brain works overtime on those down days. I struggle with the part where no one really needs me and I don’t know what to do with myself. On those days, my self-worth takes a beating. Why do I feel like I need to be needed to be worthy?

What am I teaching my daughter about womanhood?

But I must be doing something right. During our TV watching time last night, there was a funeral and they were playing “Amazing Grace” on the bagpipes. I jokingly said that I would haunt my family if they played the bagpipes at my funeral (even though it is the instrument of our ancestors) because it reminded me of Ross Geller playing “Celebration”. My youngest laughed but then in all seriousness said she would want to play “Over the Rainbow” because it’s what I always sing to Jamie and sang to them both as babies.

In that moment, I knew I was doing something right with her. She knows her mama. She sees me. She sees my struggles, sees me overcoming them in the best way I know how. She watches my every move and listens to me when I am unaware anyone is listening. She is learning how to be a woman by watching me get through the days, seeing the joy, struggles, heartache, worry, pain, love, and laughter in my life.

Every moment, she is watching me. It is a reminder that even though I worry I’m not enough, not doing enough, not thin enough, not funny enough, or kind enough, or as wrinkle-free as I might like to be, she is learning from me. She is learning how to love herself and others, age gracefully, kindness, live a simple life, how to help and be of service to those around us, how to parent, how to partner. She is learning what to look for in a life well lived and how to enjoy even the rotten days. And I hope that she is learning that her mother isn’t perfect and it’s okay that she isn’t either.

Perfectionism is hard to come by. I am human. I am woman.

I hope she hears me roar even on the days I don’t feel like it. I hope that she roars every day. Especially when she doesn’t feel like it.