I’ve been looking at my reflection a lot lately. What I see can bring back a warm flow of memories from my childhood or make me laugh hysterically. At other times, this same reflection can shock and startle me and bring into plain view some of the very worst parts of myself and my personality that, until now, I’ve been able to sweep under the rug. No, I haven't been spending an inordinate amount of time in front of a mirror, in fact, it s just the opposite. I spend most of my time watching my daughters, who are reflecting a more perfect picture of me than any mirror ever could.

When I became a mother, I was overcome by the awesome responsibility placed on my shoulders. I would need to teach my daughters so many things, how would I ever teach them all that they needed to learn? I taught them specific things, like saying their prayers, respecting their elders, how to get along well with other children and other such important things. Little did I know that these things were just a small sampling of everything they were learning from me.

I began to realize the day-to-day impact when I noticed my own behavior reflected back to me. Behavior that I didn’t "teach" them. Silly things like sucking my cheeks in when I put on my blush in the morning and sighing as I blow my bangs out of my face. And, not so silly things like my older daughter pointing her finger and saying in an impatient voice, "enough!" when her little sister is crying in frustration.

When I began to see my reflection in ways that didn’t please me, I was overcome with guilt. I had quit my job to stay home with my children so that I would be their primary influence and I was beginning to see that maybe my influence wasn’t the "perfect" one that I had imagined it would be. So, I decided that I needed to make some changes because my children needed a "perfect" example of "perfect" behavior, didn’t they?

I became much more aware of my reactions in certain situations, especially when my children were watching. I would feel so proud of myself when I became frustrated and would talk myself through it so as to demonstrate to my daughters how to cope when things didn’t go exactly as planned. But, inevitably, I would have a day when nothing seemed to go my way and I would react by slamming my hand down on my desk or by running my hands through my hair and screaming. Then the guilt would return and I would ask myself and God, "Why do I keep messing up? I m an adult, I know how I should act so why do I keep failing? I want to be the perfect mother, when will I ever get there?"

My answer came in the form of more questions. I began to wonder if we are supposed to be perfect when we become parents or if we are to strive to become better people as we parent? Aren’t all human beings imperfect, aren’t we just imperfect adults trying our best to raise imperfect children? In pondering these new questions it started becoming clear to me why my daughters didn’t need a "perfect" mother. When I allow my daughters to see my flaws, I m demonstrating to them that it s O.K. for them to have flaws, too. When I make mistakes and ask them for forgiveness, I teach them how to forgive. When I forgive myself for my imperfections, I teach them to forgive their own.

In parenting, we need to teach our children how to deal with what life will bring them as they live as imperfect people. They will undoubtedly make mistakes, but if they’ve never learned how to recover from them, apologize to those that they have hurt, forgive themselves and move on to the next challenge, how will they succeed in life? Trying to become the "perfect" mother is an impossible goal. In being imperfect myself, I can teach my daughters how to love themselves, their weaknesses as well as their strengths. And in showing them that I love them, as imperfect as they are, I also reflect to them the perfect love of God. And isn’t that what parenting is all about anyway?