“Our children repeat what they hear.
‘You happy, Mommy?’
My son’s small voice broke through as I stomped around his room putting toys away. I wasn’t happy. I was overwhelmed and frustrated. Somehow, his little three-year-old soul knew. My mood continued to slip as we cleaned his room. I apologized. He kept asking, ‘You happy, Mommy?’
I tried to be.
‘Mommy is Wonder Woman.’
As I wrestled his arms into a jacket while racing to get us out of the door, my son decided that each member of our family was a superhero. We were running behind, my patience ebbing away with the mounting stress. I really didn’t care if his sister was the Flash, but then his words stilled my heart.
In the middle of my mess and imperfection, this was how he saw me. I was his Momma. His Wonder Woman. Suddenly, everything else didn’t matter as much.
‘Mommy good job too.’
His response brought tears to my eyes. It had been an evening fraught with failure. I’d spent too long chatting with a friend at the library, which meant we arrived at the grocery store right at dinner time. My toddlers helped me load the grocery cart with their favorite snacks and all of our essentials. We arrived at the checkout forty-five minutes later only to realize I’d left my wallet in the truck.
I apologized and raced out of the store to get my bank card. In my rush, my daughter tripped and skinned her knee. She cried as I scooped her up. I tried to comfort her while drowning in shame. When we walked back inside, we discovered that the baggers had unloaded our entire cart. I thanked them over and over, and then we slowly made our way out to the truck. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I glanced in the rear-view mirror at my toddlers and thanked them for doing such a good job. My daughter’s small voice said, ‘Tank ooh,’ and my son’s eyes lit up as he answered, ‘Mommy good job too.’
I didn’t feel like I’d done a good job. My pride was as scraped as my daughter’s knee. I had gone grocery shopping during the witching hour, and despite my kids handling it wonderfully, I had failed. I’d forgotten my wallet and outpaced my daughter. I should have scooped her up from the start. I should have thought about how fast I was going. It was a stupid mistake.
Now that we were finally done and one our way home, we were all tired and hungry. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I remembered how prior to going into the store, I had asked my son if he could be my big helper. He’d been exactly that. When I thanked him and his sister, he turned around and poured that same encouragement back into my weary, guilt-ridden heart. ‘Mommy good job too.’ My eyes brimmed with tears. In that moment, I needed those words more than he could ever know.
Our children repeat what they hear, often saying what we need most when we least expect it.
Even when I’m failing, even when I’m forgetful and frustrated, even when I’m spent and our tempers are clashing, even their God’s grace steps in.
Out of the mouths of the babes, He’s given us we’re reminded who we are.
Loved, forgiven, and capable of beginning anew.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Rachel Weidner, 25, of Indiana. Follow Rachel’s journey on Instagram here. Do you have a similar experience? We’d like to hear your important journey. Submit your own story here. Be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
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