Supermoms
I think of my self as a good mother. No, scratch that, a great mother. Oh, I know that I am highly flawed in every sense of the word. I have no illusions that there is anything even resembling perfection in my parenting. I call upon the grace and mercy of a loving God to protect my children from my, often enormous, daily failures.
When I think about my life as a mom, I feel like I am holding on by a thread. Actually the picture I have is more of myself riding a unicycle on a tight rope, while balancing a ball on the end of a pole - one wrong move and the whole thing is going to fall to crap. In other words, I am hanging on for dear life.
This often comes as a surprise to me because from the outside looking in, motherhood always looked so simple and mundane. You watch kids. That is your job. What could be so hard about that? Once I joined the inside circle of this elite group I realized the truth - it would be easier to turn your insides out and walk across glass on your intestines than go through the process of growing, birthing and rearing children (and I'm only in the beginning stages where the most complicated problem I have to deal with is trying to explain to a 3 year old why you have to wash your hands after you defecate even though they appear to be perfectly free from any poop.)
The incredible challenge of motherhood is what leaves me in a state of wonder and consternation when I come across what I will call a "supermom". These are women who seem completely unfazed by motherhood. Should you encounter one of these women emerging from their gleaming minivans, you will notice that their hair is perfectly coiffed, their clothes fashionable and neatly pressed, their children clean and well behaved.
One tell tale sign of a supermom is an uncanny ability to keep her voice in a constantly calm and reassuring tone. Should little Johnny do something inappropriate, such as whack his brother with a stick, this mom will not shriek in horror and start threatening imminent doom. Rather, she will state, in voice so calm it is almost freakish, that little Johnny must step aside. They will then engage in a conversation about love and kindness, at the end of which there will be hugs and all parties will return to the state of unperturbed family bliss in which they live together. No screaming, no yelling, no red faces - amazing!
If you are concerned that you may be included in this category, don't be. Most people who I know and who read my blog would not constitute supermoms. The reason for this is that the moms who I am describing scare me. I run in terror when I see them. Truth is that I am intimidated that their laser vision will see through the thin veil of normality that I try to wear in public places. They will know in an instant that I am one of those moms. The kind who pretend not to notice when their children drop their sandwich in the dirt and then pick it up and continue eating, who let their children go entire days without exiting their pajamas and who probably can't tell you the date of their children's last bath.
I imagine these supermoms live in immaculate homes with gleaming hardwood floors and spend most of their days doing handy crafts with the children, while teaching them lessons about respect and friendship. In their spare time, which of course they have because they are so well-organized, they enjoy instructing the children in music, dance and all things cultural. They also have time for helping people. They engage in community activities that better the world around them. From my lowly perspective, they appear to be some sort of rare cross between a robot and a greek god. I don't know how they do it all and still remain so stylish and friendly.
There is a saying that gives me some reassurance. It is something to the effect of the cleaner the house the more lacking the sex life. The converse would apply for a messy house. I have decided this is true, though a bit tricky to prove. We only know a handful of people whose homes we regularly descend upon without notice. Of those, there are even less who we know or would want to know anything about what goes on behind closed doors. So, for now, I'll have to take it on faith and keep believing that the supermoms of the world achieve such perfection in their homes and such a spotless shine in their minivans due to pent up sexual energy. Their frustration with lacking satisfaction in their lives must be re-directed. Instead of meaningful time together with their husbands, they wax the hardwoods, trim the hedges, and dust the cobwebs in every corner. At least that is what I tell myself to bolster my spirits.
Basically, being a mom is hard work and anyone who makes it look easy is a supermom. On second thought, maybe some people just hide their dirt better than others.
When I think about my life as a mom, I feel like I am holding on by a thread. Actually the picture I have is more of myself riding a unicycle on a tight rope, while balancing a ball on the end of a pole - one wrong move and the whole thing is going to fall to crap. In other words, I am hanging on for dear life.
This often comes as a surprise to me because from the outside looking in, motherhood always looked so simple and mundane. You watch kids. That is your job. What could be so hard about that? Once I joined the inside circle of this elite group I realized the truth - it would be easier to turn your insides out and walk across glass on your intestines than go through the process of growing, birthing and rearing children (and I'm only in the beginning stages where the most complicated problem I have to deal with is trying to explain to a 3 year old why you have to wash your hands after you defecate even though they appear to be perfectly free from any poop.)
The incredible challenge of motherhood is what leaves me in a state of wonder and consternation when I come across what I will call a "supermom". These are women who seem completely unfazed by motherhood. Should you encounter one of these women emerging from their gleaming minivans, you will notice that their hair is perfectly coiffed, their clothes fashionable and neatly pressed, their children clean and well behaved.
One tell tale sign of a supermom is an uncanny ability to keep her voice in a constantly calm and reassuring tone. Should little Johnny do something inappropriate, such as whack his brother with a stick, this mom will not shriek in horror and start threatening imminent doom. Rather, she will state, in voice so calm it is almost freakish, that little Johnny must step aside. They will then engage in a conversation about love and kindness, at the end of which there will be hugs and all parties will return to the state of unperturbed family bliss in which they live together. No screaming, no yelling, no red faces - amazing!
If you are concerned that you may be included in this category, don't be. Most people who I know and who read my blog would not constitute supermoms. The reason for this is that the moms who I am describing scare me. I run in terror when I see them. Truth is that I am intimidated that their laser vision will see through the thin veil of normality that I try to wear in public places. They will know in an instant that I am one of those moms. The kind who pretend not to notice when their children drop their sandwich in the dirt and then pick it up and continue eating, who let their children go entire days without exiting their pajamas and who probably can't tell you the date of their children's last bath.
I imagine these supermoms live in immaculate homes with gleaming hardwood floors and spend most of their days doing handy crafts with the children, while teaching them lessons about respect and friendship. In their spare time, which of course they have because they are so well-organized, they enjoy instructing the children in music, dance and all things cultural. They also have time for helping people. They engage in community activities that better the world around them. From my lowly perspective, they appear to be some sort of rare cross between a robot and a greek god. I don't know how they do it all and still remain so stylish and friendly.
There is a saying that gives me some reassurance. It is something to the effect of the cleaner the house the more lacking the sex life. The converse would apply for a messy house. I have decided this is true, though a bit tricky to prove. We only know a handful of people whose homes we regularly descend upon without notice. Of those, there are even less who we know or would want to know anything about what goes on behind closed doors. So, for now, I'll have to take it on faith and keep believing that the supermoms of the world achieve such perfection in their homes and such a spotless shine in their minivans due to pent up sexual energy. Their frustration with lacking satisfaction in their lives must be re-directed. Instead of meaningful time together with their husbands, they wax the hardwoods, trim the hedges, and dust the cobwebs in every corner. At least that is what I tell myself to bolster my spirits.
Basically, being a mom is hard work and anyone who makes it look easy is a supermom. On second thought, maybe some people just hide their dirt better than others.
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