You just can’t wear two ties.

Ethan has recently begun wearing ties when we leave the house. He informed me that this is what men do. Oh, do they now?

Often he picks out one of the ties he comes across in his collection and slaps it on and the result is totally charming. What mother doesn’t want to walk around the farmer’s market with a handsome little boy wearing a polka dot tie over his t-shirt?

Here’s the thing, though. This morning he came out dressed for church, all by himself as usual, with TWO ties clipped to his t-shirt. And two mismatching socks under his sandals. This moment was fairly conflicting for me. Part of me, I’ll call her the “good mommy”, wanted to high five the kid for a job well-done and beam that her son is confident, unique, and creative. I glanced at Chris, who muttered his disapproval with the words “geeky, but … that’s okay I guess” under his breath, and my heart sank. Shoot. He’s right, he looks a little geeky. Without further thought, that other part of me, we’ll call her “bad mommy”, instructed Ethan that people just don’t wear two ties and that he needs to pick one. And while he is at it, find some matching socks.

Can you feel how big my cringe is right now? Ouch. Maybe the worst part is that I didn’t really honor this moment all day, but I felt guilty about letting my control-freak tendency come out and do its damage. And I felt ashamed that I let the opinion of others dictate how I would relate to my sweet kid. Maybe I am over-thinking it, but I just really hate moments like that.

In a nutshell, they are failures. And motherhood is more full of them than I ever anticipated, often in way more technicolor brilliance than the above example. Boy, when I was childless, how I thought I had so much figured out! Each year I am less and less the mother I thought I would be, which is not necessarily a bad thing. It is sobering and humbling; I never knew this role would have such capacity to expose my vulnerabilities, insecurities, weaknesses and selfishness. There are times when the exposure is so acute, so revealing, that I have a hard time facing myself. When all of your ideals and values don’t line up with your actions and the ability to change course seems surprisingly sluggish and blocked. Inertia.

As I grapple with what to do about myself, I try to remember to be merciful in my self-talk. To have the wisdom to know what the difference is between a healthy commitment to high standards and being my own (and everyone else’s) worst critic. To have the energy and sense of freedom to laugh, dance, sing, play and be silly. To truly love them for who they are, two ties and all.