A Hot Mess Mom's Guide to Mindful Living

It was pouring down rain, and I’d just wrapped up my work. I’d promised myself I’d keep my work to the hours my kids are in school, but they were deep in a Harry Potter movie I’d seen a million times, and there were a few tasks I could stand to get out of the way. So, I did. Then, the movie ended, my work wrapped up, and the sky was falling.

I’m talking about a torrential downpour. I sat enjoying it, and then I had a flash of inspiration. I told my 4 and 6-year olds to grab their rainboots, and they knew immediately what we were going to do. With shouts of glee, they pulled on brightly colored rain boots, and I slipped into my own. We headed outside to dance, jump, and play in the warm summer rain.

There were puddles everywhere. Mud puddles. Rain puddles. Rushing water in the culvert. We sang the Peppa Pig puddle song and jumped, at first with umbrellas. Then, we discarded them and didn’t care that we were getting soaked. We just enjoyed the time together.

Afterward, we loaded wet clothes into the washing machine and headed for hot baths. I heated large bath towels in the dryer so that we’d sink into their thick coziness post-bath. We pulled out our softest pajamas and returned to the couch where we’d started, only to notice that the rain shower had passed.

Had I been less quick to seize the day, we might have missed it altogether.

I’m honest when I say I’m a hot mess mom.

I’m not a perfectly put-together parent. You know the kind I mean, the Pinterest parent who comes in with the perfectly adorable homemade snack while the rest of us are quietly trying to rip off the sticker that makes it glaringly obvious that the plastic container we just sat down beside your Tupperware one was so clearly store-bought. While I admire and appreciate them, I am not one of them.

These are my people — the hot mess moms, the disorganized dads, and the parents either too busy or uncoordinated to plan the perfect playdate or bring in the perfect snack and game for the class party.

I get them. I know what it is to try to be that and to discover it’s just not our style. I understand that as much as they might prefer to be perfectly organized and on top of everything, they just don’t make the mark.

As a hot mess mom, I often struggle with feelings of inadequacy.

I didn’t turn out to be one of the Pinterest or homeschool moms who seem to have it all together. Actually, as a self-employed writer, I often feel like I spend far too much time working or working something out in my head. I’m distracted, and my creative side doesn’t always allow me to be fully present when a story is crafting itself inside my mind. The lack of focus can sometimes make me feel like I’m failing as a mom, particularly as a single mom.

But recently, I’ve decided that I think too much about those moments of inattention rather than looking at my parenting holistically. I may have moments of absentmindedness and moments where I crave quiet so I can follow the conversation characters are having in my head. But most of the time, I am there. I am in the room with two small children who want every second of my time and energy.

If some of my time and energetic resources are spent solely on myself, that doesn’t mean I’m failing as a parent. It means I’m taking care of myself so I can be a good one.

I had a professor in undergrad who said that practice makes progress, not perfection.

I’m not trying to be perfect anymore. Instead, I’m working on living a more mindful life. I’m tuning in, and when I see a downpour of rain in the summer, we drop everything and run out to jump in muddy puddles.

Later that evening after the puddle-jumping incident, I saw a kid-friendly goat yoga class. I signed us up without second-guessing myself, even though it meant setting an alarm on a Sunday morning. I surprised my kids with our outing, and they had the best time playing with dogs and goats while doing yoga.

Maybe the rest of the weekend, they watched too much TV or had too many junky snacks. Maybe I wasn’t always fully tuned in, and they sometimes fought too much. But we had puddle jumping and goat yoga, and I think that just might be a parenting win.

Being more mindful means learning to listen up and tune in and be present, even when a story is tugging at my soul. I’m learning to find balance and to take good care of myself and give my kids the kind of moments they’ll remember. I’m trying not to focus on all the annoyances and aggravations that come with parenting and instead turn my attention to the way that I connect with my children.

I need to switch the focus from all the ways I don’t measure up to the ways in which I do — or the ways in which no measure is needed.

I am not a Pinterest mom, but that doesn’t mean they’re better parents and that I am failing. It’s not a competition, and the measure of success for each child (and parent) will look drastically different. No prizes will be awarded to the parent whose child appears to be the most successful. That’s not a thing.

Success itself can be broadly defined. I don’t care how much money my kids one day make, but I do care if they turn out to be kind. My vision for their future is focused on their happiness, not on any material success or particular family dynamic. I want them to know themselves well and to know joy. I want them to live deeply authentic lives. I don’t want them to lose the magic of childhood just because they grow up.

So, we will keep jumping in puddles and showing up to do things like goat yoga or go off on extraordinary or ordinary adventures. We will tell each other stories and laugh as often as we can. I will try to make sure that they have my mindful presence as often as I’m able to give it, and I’m going to try to stop shaming myself for the times when I reclaim my own time for myself to indulge in a daydream, read a book, or puzzle out a story.

I am not perfect. They are not perfect. But we are happy.

That’s mindful parenting. It’s also mindful living. When it rains, we’ll be out jumping in the puddles. You might even see us stop and literally smell the roses… and the basil and the honeysuckle and the books in the library.

I’m trying to live deeply tuned in, and if I show up with a story brewing in my head, my hair a hot mess, and store-bought cupcakes with the price ripped off, I’m still a good mom. And a mindful human.

I’m not going to apologize for it.

I’m going to be too busy jumping in puddles and enjoying it.