So I just read this article which I think was designed to make "real moms" feel better about themselves. Things like, "I don't make my kid eat all his veggies" and "I make the kids race to see who gets their toys cleaned up fastest".
This on the tail end of having a nice night of open bar drinking with one of my readers, who was shocked to learn I yell. "From your blog, I'd think you had it all together!" says he. (PS - "He" is preparing a guest post, I hope. You know who you are!)
Clearly he did not read the Kix and Neurosis post.
That was a good day.
Given that my blog posts are categorized under things like "freaking out," "guilt," and "post partum depression," ... I can assure my readers I do not have it all together. Quite the opposite. I started this blog in hopes that we'd all get together and be like, "Hey, I have it together every 3rd Tuesday on a full moon and the rest of the time I manage" or "I actually do have it all together but it means I never, ever have 10 seconds to myself" or whatever.
Towards the end of the mommy wars.
Towards the end of judging ourselves as all together, not together, or that any of that is good, bad or otherwise. Just is. Towards accepting that every mom and dad just are how they are in the best way they can be.
So that article kind of rubbed me the wrong way... because it made me feel like they were the confessions of those "all together" moms whose worst sin is ignoring the food pyramid. It's totally cool to have that confession as the worst black mark on the soul of your parenting. But not as a way to make the rest of us hot messes feel any better.
It gave me that same feeling I had in high school when confronted with a bunch of girls whose worst day involved frizzy hair, bloat, and boys. Like they'd grown up to be moms who -oops!- hung up pictures of the same baby instead of one of each identical twin.
It's cool to be that mom. Just like once in a while I wished to be that high school girl, once in a while I wish to be that mom.
Except I am regularly this mom:
This morning, I wanted to sleep in so I put the iPad, a banana, and the Miracle Sippy Cup That Never, Ever Spills in bed with me & my kid and I zonked out. I wouldn't confess that as a bad mom moment - I loved it. She loved it. It worked for both of us. I got to rub the sleep out of my eyes, she got movies and breakfast in bed. Reading those other confessions though, I felt a sneaking sense of "Would other mothers do this?"
How about the two months I was so sleep deprived, depressed, confused, and medicated that I just yelled at my 2.5 year old every. single. morning. because we couldn't get out of the house on time? As though that was her fault? But I was making it to work and making a living and feeding my family and doing the best I could with what I had. Which wasn't very much at that time.
How about the time I threw a book across the room (not at my child) and cried my heart out in front of my toddler because I was so at the end of my rope that the only reason I didn't want to die that day was because of her sweet little face?
How about the time that she joyfully ate pancakes and waffles for breakfast and dinner for like, 5 days, because dad was traveling and I really can't even do a great job managing toast, never mind a household, when I'm solo?
Does anyone feel better about themselves now?
Because I think there are *real* mommy and daddy confessions that once aired would make us all a little looser in our compassion and understanding for one another.
Because you've only walked in another parents' shoes when you've walked in another parents' shoes.