Sometimes the weight of being a role model weighs heavy on my shoulders.
In those moments when you see yourself reflected in your child… and not your best self, you realise how much your actions and behavior effects how they behave.
I hear my own martyrdom in the whining of my children.
I see my own lack of control as someone chucks a tantrum in frustration.
I see my own laziness in the clothes strewn across the bedroom floor.
I hear my own anger in the shouted arguments between siblings.
I watch my own worries reflected in the thoughts of my non-sleeper.
Constantly being a role model is one of the hardest things about being a parent. Always knowing that what you do and say and think is being sucked up by these small brains and filed away for future reference.
It’s difficult and tiring and heartbreaking.
I hate it…
But I also love it.
I have a chance to make a difference in the most profound way. To teach and show and be a major part of how another person develops. That is huge and scary and tiring and relentless, but it is also an amazing privilege.
Plus it is good for me.
When I see my worst self reflected in my children I am reminded that how I face my faults and my short comings is more important than having them.
It is not my job as a parent or a role model to never make mistakes, to never be angry, or worry, to never make poor choices… it is my job to do all those things, and keep going, keep trying to do better.
The greatest thing I can give my children is to be human. To try my best, to be imperfect and like myself anyway.