Super Mom

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Lately, I've been letting stress get the best of me.

These past few days, I have been up to my eyeballs in poopy diapers and runny noses.  On top of a nagging, but thankfully not serious, medical issue that I have been getting for the past few months.

I've been grumpy.  Caught up in the monotony of daily chores.  Easily rattled and quick to lose my temper.

As accepting as I am in each of my girls habits and needs, I've been finding myself frustrated by Abby's free spirit and Lilly's tendency to want to be plastered to my hip.

 I'm not happy with myself.  I feel guilty for the tone I use and my reactions.

I was talking to a friend the other day who was letting off steam about how she feels like she just can't do it all.  Dinner, reading, playing, cleaning... the list goes on and on.

I gave her advice:  there's nothing wrong with pizza for dinner, let the cleaning wait, don't miss the little moments.  I told her there's no such thing as a SUPERMOM.

Yet, today, I sat here and texted Dan to tell him that I'm a failure.  Telling him that now I'm having second thoughts about not sending Abby to preschool.  Telling him that I'm frustrated and feel stuck.  Feeling like my days have no purpose or destination.

I was having a pity party because I have been walking around with tissues and Lysol wipes for days.  Because neither of my girls napped.  Because a project I had planned for the afternoon went wrong.

Then I realized, that I need to take my own advice.  Things will never be perfect.  Yes, I had a vision that the project would be a hit with Abby and keep her occupied for a while.  I envisioned Lilly exploring the glue and tissue paper, all while staying put on the tablecloth so I could leave her without a diaper to try to clear up her diaper rash (the first one either of my kids have ever had).

I envisioned rainbows and unicorns.

My reality was chaos and mess.

Instead of rolling with it, I got frustrated.  I beat myself up and called myself a failure.

How could I expect it to work out any different?  Two sick and tired kids... a recipe for disaster.  Yet, I set a standard for myself that anyone else would have called ridiculous.

Don't we all have moments like this?  Moments that don't turn out right.  Moments where we don't behave the way we know we should.

I also realized this, after I had a mini breakdown that required 5 minutes of quiet time, kids don't care about a clean house or elaborate projects.  That want to play, with you.  They want to do something, with you.  They want to know where their favorite toys are.  They don't want our definition of a Supermom, they have their very own definition for that.  One that is far more forgiving than ours.

I need to remind myself, that what I think I should be and what my kids need me to be are two separate things.  I am willing to bet that any Mom who worries about whether or not they are doing right by their kids, probably is doing a perfect job.

So, I now believe that there is such thing as a Supermom.  A Mom that is perfect.  I am that Mom for my kids, and I'm sure you are a Supermom to yours.

The next time I'm beating myself up, I'm going to drop everything and just be.  I have 2 happy, healthy, thriving girls.  Full of giggles and songs and the sweetest dance moves I have ever seen.  Only a SUPERMOM could raise 2 kids like that.