It’s been a rough couple of months, with lots of self-doubt, frustration and struggles for balance. Within this, I find that the moments that make me happiest are the fun times I spend with my family. It feels wonderful to be greeted at the door with a high-pitched “Mamaaaaaaa,” and outstretched arms waiting for a hug. I
feel appreciated and validated when my presence is requested to climb on, to be witness to something or to entertain. I don’t need any special skills or talents. I’m not being compared with anyone else. I’m accepted and wanted for who I am.
That’s not to say that I don’t still get joy from other things I used to be passionate about. Upon arrival in Africa, I definitely had a “Cool, I’m in Africa!” moment, where I was thankful I could both be a mother and have that opportunity. I’m still enthusiastic about the appearance of spring buds and flowers, of clean, fresh air, of time with a good book.
But there is something special about family time that makes me feel OK about who I am. That makes me feel I’m doing a good job. And that I’m contributing something that is being appreciated.