Because some days I can’t hang on. Some days I lose it in front of (or worse, onto) a child who might carry the memory of yells and tears forever. Some days my best is tangled up in my worst and the people for whom I would walk through fire are subject to my own flames.
There is this pushed forward ideal of Mom that we seem to totally embrace while secretly hating {so basically, we all have Mommy issues}. She is:

• Working or staying home {whichever you’re not doing}
• Super creative
• Designing and crafting adorable clothes and toys for her children
• Making restaurant-style dishes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Every day.
• Keeping her home (including the sink) spotless and smelling yummy
• Creating magical memories for her family on a weekly basis
• Endlessly patient and joyful
• Skillfully photographing/blogging every golden thing she does
• Having lots of energized married fun with her adoring husband

She is also adorable in her trendy outfits and accessories which she puts together every morning and tops off with a Pinterest worthy ‘do that can take no less than the hour which she uses her fairy dust to fabricate so that her coffee is still hot when she sips it in peace while doing her devotions to the birds chirping.
Give.Me.A.Break.
The real moms know that heels and pearls are a nice little break from our every day, not our uniform. That woman does not exist (seriously, that’s impossible, she would create some kind of vortex and suck us all into a black hole), yet she is the standard by which many Moms measure their work. Not unlike our obsession with physical beauty, the sweet subjectivity of a “good Mom” is ruined by Vortex Mom.  She is the antithesis of Christ. Undermining our value and leaving us feeling just wrecked, not wrecked and carried. Not wrecked and beautiful. Not wrecked and redeemed.
We are all floundering to some degree. We go through labor and we hold that sweet, perfect child and we pray with white knuckles that we won’t fail him too badly. Then the little angel stays up late screaming for no reason, or learns that “no” gets attention, or defies the smallest requests for 3 days straight and we do fail. We snap, we cry, we give up on trying to “be consistent.”
Some days it is just plain hard to be a mom. Or a wife. Or a person on this planet, really. I read this beautiful piece from one of my favorite bloggers the other day. And the honesty was inspiring. I have been feeling lately that while I by no means want to contribute to the complaining, the martyr-like attitude, or the inconvenienced mom rants out there, I also don’t want to put forth an unrealistic perception of rainbows and butterflies. Maybe some moms never lose their cool, but that isn’t my reality. Even so I absolutely, positively love being a mother {and a wife, incidentally ;)}.
Because most of this is really great. Most of it is fulfilling and challenging in the best way. Most of it is choosing to see our job as the blessing it is. A lot of it is breaking. A lot of it leaves us feeling inadequate and immature. A lot of it brings us into huddled balls on the floor with sobs and “I don’t know what to do” overwhelming our heads.
At least, that’s true for me.
But what is also true is that the very end of my rope is where the Real Greatness of motherhood starts. That’s when our Rescuer is the only thing that can bring me hope. That’s when I have to lean back and plummet into arms that can hold not only my mess, but my daughter’s and my husband’s. There is such great, great hope in that… Some days, the worst days, end on a solitary note of promise that His love is so much better than mine. That where mine cracks and bends and collapses, His is firm and unshaken. That my children are more loved by the One who created them than the one He used to create. And that is a lot.
So, fellow non-Vortex Mothers, if you relate take comfort. If you don’t, have pity on the rest of us. Which will be easy for you because you are perfect and probably carry jars of compassion in your designer bag. 😉