scribblechic

I have unintentionally began to schedule our summer. Two commitments anchor our time and I am hesitant to sacrifice lingering lazy days of serendipitous exploration to additional obligations. Even as I clutch tightly to unstructured time, I look over my shoulder at other mothers’ agendas questioning how much is too much and what is not enough?

I can broaden my uncertainty to encompass old decisions. Confident in a moment, doubt catches up with me stealing my resolve. Should I force my son to continue a particular sport? Should I insist my daughter explore other interests? Do I enforce expectations or nurture independent demonstrations of individual interests?

I know there isn’t a simple right or wrong answer. The bigger personal truth is that I mother my children from the trenches of my own comfort zone. I tell myself that I celebrate our unsystematic exploration of interests and resistance to conform to cookie cutter choices, but quietly unspoken doubts lead to second guessing. Am I forging a new path or limiting choices by overlooking other experiences?

I sometimes look to my peers, mothers whose calendars are filled with lessons and games, performances and competitions. I wonder if they have broken a code that creates a more well-balanced child.  Doubt challenges my confidence.

Just as I embrace the possibility that I have done everything wrong, I look up and catch sight of my children playing. One child swinging contentedly while studying the clouds; the other curled over a treasure trove of small rocks. It is a simple life with simple joys. I tuck my doubts away for now, hopeful that in following my heart I have chosen wisely.

Tagged: Children, Motherhood, Musings