No Mom is Perfect!

The latest film to send women to the theaters in droves, Bad Moms, will surely bombard the mom-blog world in the next weeks. I won't review or spoil the film, but I will encourage you to take time away from your families to laugh like you haven't laughed in years. Grab some girlfriends, grab some contraband Goobers, and go out for some feisty fun.


What the movie is meant to do is promote feelings of empowerment for modern mothers. The kind of empowerment I have been dishing on this blog since day one. Parenting is hard. Being a mom is never the same two years in a row...two days in a row...two minutes in a row. We need a village of other women to support us; to drag us off the couch when we want to give up; to keep us from hiding from our kids, responsibilities and husbands. Every mom feels it. Nobody talks about it.


We all have encounters with other women who seem ready to doubt or judge the quality of our momness. A stranger at a party called me a "...sigh...Supermom" in a snide way recently, which irritated me. However, I was able to blow her off because she was only basing it on the number of children I have. What hurts is when friends do it to each other. Why are women always the worst offenders? Women in my circle often remark on my perfection, while demeaning me for it in the same sentence. My perfect baking. My perfect school involvement. My perfect hospitality. 


Those areas of my life are where I might appear to excel because it's how I can show how deeply I care about somebody. I cook and bake for others because it's my hobby, and I love to see the smiles on their faces when they enjoy my treats. That's all. It's not to prove I'm better. It's not to say I don't buy things from stores. I absolutely do! All.The.Time.


I involve myself in school, community and church because I am an extrovert. I am easily bored sitting at home or on the sidelines. I like to help and lead, and for some reason, others tend to want to join when I'm there. I remember what life was like to be a new mom, or new in town, or unable to speak a language, so I jump in to help when I know those needs exist. My children's ages are spread in such a way that I seem to be everywhere all the time and know a lot. It is because I boldly insert myself and ask a lot of questions (hello, extrovert). I like to be aware. Then, I share what I learned to make the path easier for those after me. I do not seek to prove that I know more or am more important. It is simply because I care and hope other parents will find the information useful. As a teacher at heart, I am highly invested in the well-being of all students of our school district, not merely my own. 


As far as my party planning and hospitality goes: I just like parties, because I like people. I love connections. I love friendships. I love smiling and laughing and food. I love kids playing. I love others coming together because, for some reason, they were meant to be in that exact space at that exact moment.


What others may not see is that I would never want to appear unapproachable or intimidating. Truth time: it hurts my feelings when someone says something snotty about me being perfect. I feel jilted when a person whines that I brought homemade treats...again. I'm crushed when another mom says, "Oh jeez, you're in charge...again?" My life is full of imperfection. Full of failure. Full of reasons I need solid, genuine friends in my life. 


It's likely that most of the so-called Supermoms, Perfect Moms and Pinterest Moms you think you know would really appreciate it if you stopped accusing them of being something they're not. Everyone is doing her best to keep her kids away from the next big catastrophe. I'm happy to share my struggles with you. It makes life more fun and more real. I love it when other women share their battles, too. 



Let's review a few areas of my life where I proudly DO NOT excel:



most forms of housekeeping, planning vacations, apologizing to my husband in a timely fashion, knowing what a teenager wants, knowing what a tween wants, knowing what little boys want, returning library books on time, remembering to dry the laundry before it stinks, cooking Puerto Rican food, maintaining my cool when my kids nag me to leave someplace when I am talking to a friend, packing the car for a trip, packing my suitcase, packing my grocery cart to make sure it doesn't overflow before I finish, walking without tripping or bumping into walls, telling short stories, physics, Pinterest and selfies.

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

How I Cherish My Land Line Phone Time

Our land line telephone loudly rings throughout the house, to the tune of one of Mozart's famous pieces. Please don't ask me which one. A computerized voice speaks to me, acting as my secretary, telling me exactly who is calling. She lets me know if it's worth it to even look for one of the four hand sets that are spread among several rooms, hiding under couches and beds, blankets and stuffed animals.

Mark Cell.

Stacey Home.

Walgreens.

Cris Tina. (The computer lady splits this name into two separate words).

Private Caller.

Grandma Home.

Kara.

MI FOP (They sure do call us a lot).

Many times, I run around the house, hunting down one of our phones, desperate to talk with someone I haven't spoken to in days or weeks. No matter what I'm doing, I perk up my voice and consciously tune in to what I know is about to be a fulfilling conversation. Mark often questions why I don't answer phone calls from him in the same way.

Other times, I ignore the call all together. I know what Walgreens wants...to remind me that my refill is ready, and private callers obviously don't deserve any attention.

Once I hold the phone in my hand, brushed against my cheek, I tend to keep busting through my day...for a while. Toss in a load of laundry; scrub gloopy globs of watermelon toothpaste from the bathroom sink; open the blinds to let in the tiny flecks of sunlight that peek through our shaded yard; maybe make a bed or two...maybe.

Eventually, I grow tired of the multitasking. I know that running the dish water and focusing on my friend's new work story are too much for me to handle. I don't want to do both. I make a shift. I reheat my coffee for the fourth time or make myself a fresh glass of iced water.

Then, I settle into my spot.

My talking-on-the-phone-spot.

I tune out the world around me, glance out at the beauty of nature through my front window, and immerse myself into the life that is coming at me through my phone line. Listening with careful consideration to the voice on the other end, I'm happy to be engaged with someone who isn't physically here. Sitting in my spot, my phone spot, helps me to forget about the busy-ness of my mom life. My school leader life. My wife life.

While we have lived in this house for only five years, this spot has existed for many, many more. I sit in my gliding chair, where I've spent countless hours, day and night, nursing and nuzzling and nurturing our four babies.

Rocking.

 

Reading.

 

Rejoicing.

Our chair is no longer situated in a child's nursery. Gone are the pastel colors, intoxicating smell of newborn Pampers, and our light-haired golden retriever resting at my feet. Instead, the chair now serves as a regular piece of furniture in our living room, where everyone can enjoy its lasting comfort.

 

Still a favorite reading spot, we can all fall into it with a book or magazine and forget real life for a while. Mark plays guitar from the couch across the room, while I simply rock and listen to his strumming. Each child takes a turn sitting in the spot while I write at my desk. They tell me stories about their days. Although much too big to rock in my arms, they will never be too big to share in the closeness that the chair promotes.

It relaxes us. It hugs us. It holds us.

If you call me on the phone for a chat, be sure that while we talk, I treasure those moments together. If you hear me making noise at first, just know that it's because my mind races through my to-do list. Just hearing your voice will quiet down those nagging feelings. Having a few giggles, confessing that you forget to send in field trip money, too, or checking on my carefree summer status will remind me to seek out my spot.

To sink myself into our family's spot and just listen. Just share. Just be.

Do you have a special place in your home for reading or knitting or talking on the phone? Why does it mean something to you?

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/