Trying to be a Perfect Mother

As I raised my three children, I would often wonder how they’d remember their childhoods. Would they look back in delight or shriek in horror? We all have good and bad days, and I desperately wanted my kids to remember the good days and somehow forget the bad ones. Pondering this I thought back to a childhood birthday memory I had marked in my mind as traumatic.

It was my sixth birthday. I remember being so very excited and feeling very special. When you’re six, feeling special was of upmost importance. Waking up on that day my little heart was filled with anticipation, excitement, and purpose. After all, we’d be celebrating that evening with a party my mom had planned.

Family and friends had arrived to celebrate the birthday girl, and everything seemed perfect. I remember wearing a pretty orange dress I could swirl around in. I felt like a pretty ballerina, with my black patent leather Mary Jane shoes, and a birthday crown made from orange paper with curly swigs at the top.

Earlier that week my mother had asked me what kind of cake filling I wanted in my birthday cake. I requested pineapple.

As all the kids gathered around the birthday table and my mom cut the cake, one of the kids said, “Yay banana! I love banana!”

I screamed, “Banana? I wanted pineapple!”

My mother said, “The bakery didn’t have pineapple filling, honey.”

This was not an acceptable answer for me, and I ran from the table crying and distraught and terribly angry. I remember running to my big brother, who was out front playing with the “big kids,” for comfort.

I guess I needed comfort because of smashed bananas. Or so, it felt that way.

Here’s the funny thing about this incident, I love bananas and banana filling, even as a kid I loved it. I was just mad because I asked for one thing and got another. I saw my mom as the “mean” mom who didn’t try hard enough to do what I asked.

Children have a way of framing things. As an adult I had to reframe this birthday memory.

But, as I looked back on this celebration, I could feel the hurt in my heart that little six-year-old felt.

Memories like this worried me about how my kids would remember me and their childhoods.

I had always seen this as one of the terrible tragedies from my childhood, but now I see it differently.

I see my mom differently.

My mother tried her best to make my day special. I had the dress, I had the crown, I had a big party, and at one word, banana, I threw a fit. Who knows, maybe she liked banana better than pineapple and didn’t think I’d mind. Maybe? She’d seen me downing bananas so what’s the big deal, right?

This was the day I learned the world wouldn’t bend at my every whim. That was probably a good lesson.

My mother wasn’t perfect, she was doing the best she could. That’s what she did throughout my childhood—the best she could.  

And I hope that’s how my kids see me—as a flawed human who did her best as a mother through all the really good days and not-so-good days.

Cheers to motherhood!

“Her children rise up and bless her.”

– Proverbs 31:28

Want more from Lucille Williams? Order a copy of “The Impossible Kid: Parenting a Strong-Willed Child with Love and Grace.” For marriage tips “From Me to We,” and “The Intimacy You Crave” can help you get the relationship you dream of. Subscribe to LuSays today for weekly updates.