I stepped in for a woman who leads a mother's group, and when she asked me what my topic would be I paused. 

"Ordinary moments." I texted back. 

"Perfect!" she replied. 

"No, not perfect. Ordinary." There is probably a cute emoji of a wink but that is not my skill set. I hoped to lower the ever escalating bar that rises above our chins like an incoming tide. You know. Like in a cave. In Thailand.

Sometimes I wish I could ask my mother, who is gone, whether there was this oppressive push toward perfection when she had four kids under eight. I doubt it. We were after all allowed to roam freely for six hours unsupervised in the woods. There was no expectation that she would sign us up for enrichment classes like music and gymnastics at the tender age of two.

Probably one factor is that she only knew a couple dozen other mothers, and managed to be in touch with them just a few times a month over coffee or on the white wall phone. With social media it isn't uncommon to have a finger on the pulse of hundreds of other mothers in different time zones multiple times a day, and then only their pinnacle achievements.

It's a lot to hold yourself accountable for. 

When the morning arrived I set out apple slices and blueberries, and waited. The first woman walked in, and I jumped to the conclusion that it would be just the two of us that morning. I was fine with that, and gave her my complete attention. It was after all an ordinary thing to chat one on one. I listened to the struggles she faces, which are different than my own, and my compassion was genuine. 

"I really honor how hard you are trying to raise this child."  She smiled, as if simply being heard mattered. 

Then another mom came through the door, and we both turned our eyes toward her. She took her turn describing what the past weeks have been like for their family, and a fresh breeze of care blew in. Having only known her for a few minutes, she mattered to me. 

Later a third woman entered, and the focus pivoted toward her for awhile. She was the hub of our regard while she gave voice to us, and to herself, of how she felt in that moment. 

Four women in a circle for just over an hour. Perfectly ordinary.