What will they think?

I wonder, often, what my children would write about me, if they were writers and they were grown up. I wonder how they see me through their eyes and what memories they will bring with them into adulthood. Will they think I was kind, mean, crazy? Will they see me as loving and kind or will they remember the yelling - in the mornings - to get out of bed, to eat breakfast, to get out of the house, to not forget homework and gym clothes and permission slips? Will they remember me as stressed and distracted with my hands in a million projects but yet never really focused on any of them? Will they remember me making dinners, and taking them to the beaches, out for ice cream and pumpkin picking? Will they remember trips to The New York Botanical Gardens and Broadway and to see the Christmas tree every year in Rockefeller Center? Will they remember all the projects we did together, the reading before bedtime, the hugging and kissing?

Or will they remember a mother distracted and busy trying hard to make it on her own? Nagging them to get their homework done or clear the table, take out the garbage, wipe the toilet seat, wash their hands, brush their teeth, sit up straight at the table? The crazy woman who was a stickler for table manners and tidy bedrooms. Will they remember me for constantly getting on them for keeping their bedrooms straight, for yelling at them for leaving their towels on the floor? Will they remember our tie dye parties and picnics on the porch? Will they remember the special things I baked for them and the board games I made them play with me at the kitchen table when they'd have rather been on their iPads? Will they remember me as a single mother? Will they have any memory of the happier days we had as a complete family? Will they think I broke up a family or will they see that I had to survive? Will they know that their happiness always came first? Will they ever know of the sacrifices I made for them? Will they appreciate me - who I became, what I did? Will they respect me, feel sorry for me, pity me? Will they think I was a good mother? The best I could possibly be? Will they see my strengths or will they focus on my faults?

Do you ever wonder what your children will think of you?

I just finished reading Ruth Reichl's For you, Mom, Finally. And it had me thinking. If you are not familiar with Ruth Reichl, she's a wonderful food writer, memoirist, and former editor of Gourmet magazine. Her most recent memoir focuses on her mother. She wrote about her mother's battles with mental illness and her shortcomings with such love and understanding. And as I finished this lovely, touching, novella I couldn't help but wonder what my children would think of me when they got older.

Will my children blame me for whatever their shortcomings will be? I must admit this worries me. We are supposed to be our children's best role models and sometimes I feel as though much of the pressure of that falls on my shoulders alone... When one parent disappoints the other must pick up and so therefore I often feel that I must work extra hard at this. And so often I feel as though I'm failing at this. We can only try to be our best, right? But what if even that is not good enough? Then what?

XOXO,

Jessica