Tuesday Slice: Which weighs more?

The air was crisp, colder in the shade of oak trees refusing to give up their leaves, gleaning the last rays of autumnal sun on the hike and bike trail.  The crunching of gravel seemed almost too loud on this quiet, breezeless morning; I was glad when my path took me onto paved walkways for an auditory respite.

Too quiet.  My mind decided to fill the noiseless void with anxiety-ridden thoughts of parenting fails over the last two decades.

Mother-guilt is something I'll take to the grave.  The times I let them cry a bit too long before picking them up (the books said they're supposed to learn to self-soothe!).  The accidents that happened because I turned my back for a moment. The selfish, soft-spoken pleas to just-go-to-sleep, because I was the one who needed the rest. The times my patience wore thin and my voice got shrill and loud.  The days when I got in the car to drive myself around the block six times to calm down. When I was late for pickup, spent too much time on the computer, didn't set a good example in home-caring/self-caring/ being kind.

In an effort to make myself feel better, I thought of the things I did "right".  Rocking my babies to sleep with lullabies.  Filling the house with books and music and craft supplies to engage their minds and hands.  Reading bedtime stories and tucking them in with kisses and blessings.  Dropping them off and picking them up from school, with talk time in the car.  Attending parent conferences, band concerts, halftime shows.  Taking them to the doctor/ dentist/ orthodontist for physical and emotional needs.  Hallway hugs, phone call check-ins.  Traveling through states, out of the country, and establishing traditions at home.     

The older my children get, the more I worry about our past affecting their present and future.  The guilt makes me rejoice in the accomplishments they make in spite of my mistakes, but grows whenever there are issues I feel I may have caused. 

In the delicate balance of a child's psyche, which weighs more--the love and care we managed to give, or the times we failed miserably in that attempt?  I pray it is the former, not the latter--and that my children will forgive me my faults, perhaps when they become parents themselves.