I knock on his door and find him at his desk folding paper. He’s an origami master, turning a square piece of yellow paper into a swan who dips her neck at his will. His desk resembles a paper zoo.

I crawl up on his platform bed and get comfortable.

“Mom, you’re not going to try and get me to talk about my feelings are you?” He knows me well.

I swallow a smile and a bit of mom guilt and I tell him I worry.

He gives me a sheepish grin because he is his mother’s son.

“I know,” he says.

We talk about our fears, taking turns. After awhile, I know he’s glad I’m curled on his bed.

I watch this nearly 11 year old boy who is changing before my eyes. We skipped Super Bowl commercials because he has started to notice things now. We limit video games, we filter computer time, we try to monitor every image he puts in his mind.

We hold at bay the very world that seeks to sling mud on that white canvas. From magazine covers at the grocery store to too short skirts at church, it’s a minefield for a young mind in our highly sexualized culture.

Thankfully, he’s mostly unaware of what lurks behind a click or cover, but I wonder how long we can protect him from this raging enemy. Pornography used to be a taboo word, but it’s snuck its way into mainstream living and not only do countless people struggle with its entrapment, many people in our culture consider it a normal, experimental right of passage or something used to rev up a marriage.

My son has a Daddy who struggled in this area as a teen and later as a man, and I’m thankful he’s vigilent and not afraid to talk about hard things with his boy. Last week, my husband dug out Passport2Purity and I saw the book tucked under his arm on his way out the door. I see a weekend campout in their future.

But what’s a boy mom to do?

I know how to talk to my daughters about purity and their hunger for screen time (TV, computers, video games) is mild. In the last few years, I’ve educated myself on how men think, but getting into my little boy’s mind is a lot harder. I asked a friend of mine with four boys what she did about all this: “I make sure they take quick showers.” That’s not enough for me.

Here are 10 things I’m doing as a mother to a boy to fight against the triple threat of porn, aggressive girls, and ultimately premarital sex:

1. I’m reading. A lot. Currently open next to my bed: Six Ways to Keep the “Good” in Your Boy: Guiding Your Son from His Tweens to His Teens, I’ll share more books on my shelf this week.

2. I’m trying to connect with him. I want to know his friends, his concerns, his dreams, his first crush (gross, mom). And I’m learning that it’s not all in the asking. It’s mostly in the listening.

3. I’m turning off the screens and pushing books. Did you know that today on average, boys spend 35 hours a week in front of a screen?  We have always limited screen time, but I’m militant about monitoring this part of our lives. And before he turns on a screen, he knows I’m going to ask what he’s read for the day. He just finished The Hobbit!

4. I’m sending him outside to play during idle time. Boys need this! Lately, we’ve told him he can earn screen time after he’s been outside for awhile–playing basketball, jumping on the trampoline, shooting his bow.

5. I’m building his confidence through physical activity. My son loves sports but doesn’t feel good at anything. Sports are competitive and often leave our boys feeling discouraged instead of built up. We are helping him pursue individual sports activities that build confidence (example: golf, swimming, archery)

6. I’m educating him. I used to try and keep all the “bad stuff” away. When he asks why he can’t see a certain movie or play a violent game, I tell him. I’d rather be the one to explain our why’s then let him guess.

7. I’m not pushing the girl thing. It’s not cute or funny for a young boy to be encouraged to have a girlfriend. I want my son to know we live in a cultural with aggressive girls who will make it challenging to be pure and we want him to resist this pressure until he’s older.

8. I am pushing guy friends, especially from church. I love that my church has a tween “youth group.” They meet weekly for Bible study and have monthly hangouts. This has really been a huge help for my son to connect with other boys like him.

9. I’m not giving him his own phone and when I do, it will be heavily monitored.  I am also not going to put a TV or gaming system in his bedroom. (Even though 2/3 of kids do!) Did you know 39% of all teens have engaged in sexting (either sending a nude/partially nude photo of themselves or a sexually suggestive text)?

10. I’m being realistic. He’s a boy. He will be tempted. He will fail in one or more of these areas. We are learning together. We are also on the same side, fighting an enemy, together. I want my home to be full of grace and I when he messes up, I want to be there. “

Life is about learning and we will make mistakes as we mother our sons. I love what Vicki Courtney says in her book, Your Boy: Raising a Godly Son in an Ungodly World and this is my goal:

“The key is to be engaged in our sons’ lives, stay in constant communication with God, who knows them best; establish appropriate boundaries; and pray a hedge of protection around their hearts.”

And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Well. I don’t know about you, but after admitting this week how hard parenting is, I feel better about motherhood…not because I’ve figured it all out, but because I know I’m not alone.

I have proof that 500 other women have desperate moments in their motherhood journey. It’s like we’re a posse of honest confessions. Yo.

And now I’d like to sit down with you over a virtual cup of coffee because I need to tell you something else. Do you like my *mug? 

I want to whisper an important truth in your ear. You need to hear this today. More importantly, you need to believe it:  it’s okay to be an okay mom.

Some days I’m an awesome mother–I mean knock-it-out-of-the-ballpark–kind of awesome. But that’s not the norm. I have really bad days where I hide in the bathroom and change all the clocks so everyone goes to bed an hour early. Just kidding, but I’ve seriously considered it. So, if you add the really great days with the really not-so-hot ones, they equal okay. And that’s well, okay.

My kids don’t need perfection, they are actually learning all the things I so desperately long to teach them because of my inadequacy. It’s  powerful when I apologize or ask them to pray for me. I’m admitting failure but I’m also teaching them strength. It’s a positive lesson in humility when they see me ask God for help in my weakness.

Some days I feel like Joni, who left this painfully honest comment:

“I actually feel like I’ve accidently stepped into a dark deep hole and haven’t hit the bottom yet. . .There are no pinch hitters; this is the motherhood no one talks about. Be 100% for both kids and still have something left. Haven’t yet figured out a way to keep from feeling like a failure.” -Joni

I want to talk about this motherhood- the one no one talks about because honestly we can’t achieve the motherhood we all expect of ourselves. This is the raw place where our high expectations meet the reality of our back-talking teen and a baby who won’t sleep anywhere but our chest. This is the real motherhood we live.

We are human. And some days are good, we fly thru them with ease. While other days are so hard we cry ourselves to sleep and regret our mistakes. But however we rate our days, we have to remember we are not alone and we don’t serve a God who keeps track. He offers us grace, just like we offer our children when they mess up. Not only are there countless mothers experiencing the same things we are,  there’s a Great Friend who is desperate for us to lean on Him.

I may not be the World’s Best Mom. But I’m okay and that’s enough for today.

*photo source

In an instant, I was furious.

I’d gone into my teenager’s room to look for something and I couldn’t believe the mess. She told me she had “cleaned” her room all weekend and yet it resembled the aftermath of a tornado on a Monday morning.

I fumed all day.

She got in the car after school and I could tell by the look on her face it had been a hard day in junior high.

“You okay?” I asked tentatively, the way a mother has learned.

She took a deep breath, “I saw something happen today that was wrong. I told my teachers. I had to do the right thing,” her voice, wobbly. The story unraveled, the infraction and the injustice.

My anger fizzled as I forgot about her room and pondered heavier things.

The next day she brought home straight A’s on her report card. For the eighth year in a row.

The following, a Star Student Award for Caring for Others.

And on Friday when I picked her up, she wore a medal around her neck from her basketball coach for showing leadership and being the athlete with the most heart.

Her room was still a disaster. But it didn’t seem to matter quite as much.

She’s just 13. And I’m ashamed I had to be reminded all week by others what life is really about. Each day I saw my amazing daughter thru the eyes of her teachers and friends and it showed me how ridiculous our constant, often heated battles over her messy room and laundry piles really are.

Parenting is hard, no doubt. But I’ve found that I often make the whole thing a lot harder. After all, my children are children. I’m the adult in this relationship and with that authority comes maturity and wisdom.

The hardest part of parenting is me. And in the thick of it, I see that I’m the one being parented by God.

I look deeper–past the dirty room and scattered laundry and I see it there; it wears a different face, but under the layers of order, I see my nasty desire for control. Because really? The battles aren’t about a clean room or tidy drawers, folded laundry or emptied trash. It’s about my unhealthy desire to be in control of things that don’t really matter because I’m not in control of things that really do.

I’ve been a mom for more than a dozen years now and I’m still learning and taking my discipline as it comes. I’m still learning to choose my battles and let go of the trivial.

My goal as a mother is to raise children who love God and love others. I still long for organized rooms, tidy toys and clean laundry, but I’m trying hard to keep the little stuff little.

I’m raising incredible kids. And if I step back and out of the way, I’m able to see it with my own eyes.

And close them (and her bedroom door- ha!) to unimportant things.