Supermom does not exist, I know this because I killed her… or rather I am making it my purpose in life to kill her, because I think that mental subscription is garbage. It is not possible. Give it up. Now in saying this I am not suggesting that we all neglect our children and leave our homes unsanitary and not expect to work for what we want/need. What I am suggesting is that we continue to do the things that we do and actually tell people how hard it is to do them.
I don’t think it’s fair to sit there in silence and suffer because you are scared that other moms may judge you. And I get the fear, moms are scary, they are a judgy group of people! But the odds are that any mom you meet will have at least one frustration or challenge in common with you. She has probably made some of the same mistakes that you have too. So why don’t we share this info? We could help someone from making the same mistakes we have; we could help someone else to feel that they really are doing a great job and not a complete failure.
I came to this realization when I was talking to my psychiatrist (yes, I see a psychiatrist, duh, doesn’t it all make sense now? LOL). And I was listing these things in my life that were causing me stress or frustration. She said hold cow, you do a lot of things in your life, she shared that she was surprised at how much I was able to take on and balance. She said that if I had not told her I was struggling she would not have known, because from the outside it looks like I am managing all of it so well. Duh, it’s supposed to! I can’t have anyone else know that sometimes I hate my life.
Yup, I said it. There are times in my day where I hate my life. Most recently, I was sitting on the couch, breastfeeding for the 4th time in 5 hours and I was watching Selling New York. Everly was awake and sticking stickers in her sticker book while yelling at me about something or other, I have since blocked it out like most of her dictator rantings. I was watching the beautiful homes on the screen and of course I was envious, but what I was more envious of were the streets of New York City. I was near weeping with jealousy over the fact that those people got to walk those streets everyday and that was their life. I felt like a caged animal. I felt like I needed to get out of my living room and mundane life as soon as possible. I looked at the people on the screen and thought that could have been me.
If my life had been what I envisioned in ninth grade, that very well could have been me… but then fast forward to halfway though ninth grade to when B and I started dating and by tenth grade I envisioned my life being what it is now. WTF? How can someone have all the things they thought they wanted as a puppy love drunk teenager and not be happy 100% of the time? Oh that’s right, it is because they puppy love drunk youngster has no idea what it’s actually like to be married with two children. Well, I didn’t at least.
The I hate my life sentence most commonly floats into my head after I have changed the 6th dirty diaper of my day and both kids are fussy and I have to pee and I have barely slept, I think to myself, shit, I really hate my life. And then I laugh like a crazy lady and resume my duties. I was feeling guilty about these moments and then I realized that’s silly, because there are just as many times in my day where I say, shit, I really love my life.
And I know that I am not alone. I know that I am not the only one who has sat on the couch and said, this sucks! I know that I am not the only one who makes mistakes and has hard days and does things that they really don’t want other moms to know about because they will judge you! So in the spirit of killing supermom, I am going to share some of those cringe-worthy moments with you and if you are brave enough, you can share some with me. Let’s make each other laugh, rather than judge!
Recently my daughter has begun potty training herself. I attempted and failed miserably, but she seems quite content to train herself so we are running with it. Okay that’s one in itself, but it’s not the punchline… When I was wiping her butt after a seriously large man poop, I told her okay, all done, you can put your underpants back on. She stayed bent over with her head upside down facing towards the floor under the toilet, she said no mama, leave me… hunh? Leave me mama, I want to look at the dirt. Yes, she said “the dirt.” Niiiiice Everly, nice. So I did what every good mother would do and I bent down to get a look at what she was seeing, OMFG it was dirty under there. I said wow, that’s pretty dirty isn’t it. She said, yup (very matter of factly and a touch judgemental with a pinch of you are a failure at cleaning the house mom and I find that entertaining).
When Everly was 8 months old I locked her in the car, with the keys on my front seat. We were visiting friends in Vancouver and she wasn’t sleeping that great. I was zombie like tired as our days were also incredibly full with visiting and Olympic festivities. In activity transition, I put her down in her seat and went to put away her stroller and shut all the doors. I nearly died. I had to embarrassingly call BCAA and get them to open the doors. The dispatch lady was like oh my goodness, we will send someone right away. Someone should have told them that she was probably safer in there than out here in the real world with me.
When Evie was about 14 months old I was taking some photos of her in her bedroom. I had rearranged some furniture to make for a more pleasing composition (of course) and in the process had to detach the plug from her wipes warmer. This left the cord exposed and still active with power… you know where this is headed now don’t you… So while I am going over the shots in the camera with a friend we hear Everly scream out and start to cry, the cord of course is in her hands and she is drooling like a Saint Bernard. Two and two were quickly put together and I felt like the worst mother EVER. I wondered if she had felt a lot of pain and scolded myself for being such a moron. My friend, who is actually Everly’s godmother, offered to put the cord in her mouth to see how bad it was. Now godmother’s of the world take note: that is a dedicated godmother! We nervously laughed as she mustered up the courage. She had to forcefully jab that thing into her tongue before she got the shock and she said yep, that’s a pretty decent shock and we laughed our asses off. Yes, that’s a dedicated godmother.
When we were visiting my parents a few months ago my dad gave Everly a Bullshit button. You know the ones… you hit it and it has about 6 different variations of bullshit that it will say. So she takes this to the car and we don’t think much of it until the summertime when the windows are down and she and I are stuck in traffic. Of course she grabs that thing and starts punching the crap out of it and of course she starts repeating the words… bullshit, horseshit, bullshit, bullshit. The people next to us were part amused, party thisclose to calling the ministry of children and families on my ass. I was fat and pregnant at the time and could not bend around in our tank of an SUV, so I had to sit there and wait until she got bored; she never did.
Everly has a hard time saying the hard ‘S’ sound in socks and so it comes out fock… which of course sounds just like the fancy F-word. When we were grocery shopping one winter day she had her rubber boots on and had kicked them off from the cart. I put them back on a few times before I eventually took them away and put them in the cart, she was not impressed and screamed at me. I quickly moved our cart into another aisle, but she would not stop. She now wanted her socks off. So she starts shouting “fock off mommy, fock off.” Oh you better believe that turned a few heads. I was laughing because well obviously, what else would you do in such an embarrassing situation. I kept repeating, you need to keep your SOCKS on Everly, SOCKS on. And of course was repeatedly met with fock off, fock off. Best grocery shopping trip of my life.