Reasons Why I am a Supermom

I REALLY wanted to be a Supermom when I had kids.

You know the type: They're ubiquitous on the Internet with their awesome blogs about making their own cleaning supplies, growing their own vegetables, or whittling their own teething rings. These women are fit, trim, and have perfectly coiffed hair; somehow they manage to dress in stylish outfits sans spit-up and coffee stains. Their children wear the most adorable handmade clothes refashioned from shirts and skirts from the Goodwill pile.

Okay, I didn't necessarily want to be that kind of Supermom. For starters, I have no idea how to whittle. But I would hear or read about these amazing women and after I got over the initial desire to punch them in the face, I realized that I harbored jealousy that they could be so put together themselves AND have put-together homes too.

It always seemed like I could have one or the other:

Either I was going to put on makeup and get out of my pajamas OR I could do laundry and clean up the dog pee.

The other day I sent my sister-in-law an email at 8:00 in the morning that sounded a little something like this: "Hey! Blah-blah-blah...I'm rockin' the mom thing today...blah-blah-blah making my own organic pasta...blah blah blah changing TWO diapers with a hand tied behind my back...blah blah blah...I could do this forever! I feel awesome!"

Fast forward to 2:00pm, where she received a text message that said something like this: "Disregard former email. Huddled in the corner in fetal position. Don't know where Elliott is currently, there is baby poop covering the faces of the Glee actors in my US Weekly, and somehow I'm no longer wearing any pants."

That sums up how this past month with a toddler and a newborn has played out for me.

Since having two kids, Matt and I have realized that we need to streamline the household operations. This has involved employing some cleaning and picking-up strategies and detailed meal-planning. And even though I have a list of things I'm supposed to do every day in an effort to have my household together and running like the well-oiled machine it can be, I can't seem commit to even the simplest of tasks. 

For example, one thing I'm supposed to do is keep the kitchen sink empty at all times. Put things directly in the dishwasher and wash pots and pans immediately after using them. 

Yup. Kitchen sink was clean this morning. But now it looks like this:

And those are just the remnants of one meal -- all that mess for one tiny box of Annie's Mac & Cheese? But you know what? I don't care right now. Because even though keeping the house clean and making good meals are important and could certainly contribute to "Supermom" status...I don't think that's what makes me a Supermom.

At the end of the day, if I haven't made a craft or started a sewing project, if I go to bed without folding the laundry, if I feed my child french fries instead of apples, I think I can still fight for that title. And here's why:

1) I love my kids unconditionally: Oh, it's so cliche, but true  -- I would throw myself in front of a moving bus to save my children. The love I feel for my two boys outweighs everything else in my life. I want them to be happy and I know that I'll put my own happiness and comfort aside to make sure they're happy. Being a Supermom is knowing that sacrifice is part of the deal. 

2) I know my limits and when it's time to ask for help: I can admit that when I whisper to my newborn, "If you wake up your brother, I'm putting you outside on the lawn until your dad gets home" that it might be time take a mental break. No Supermom is an island. If you find a fantastic Supermom out there, you've no doubt stumbled upon a network of Super people. My husband, my own mom, my mother-in-law, my family, my friends? If I get time to sit down and do something for myself, it's because someone else out there is helping me or will help me later. Right now, both boys are asleep and I'm choosing to write instead of clean -- so those dishes might go untouched until Matt gets home. And I'm super because I know, with 100% conviction, that I can't do it myself and I'm not perfect and it's okay to feel like this mom thing is crazy-hard. I'm a Supermom because I can admit that there are times I daydream about a life free from kids -- where Matt and I can just pack up and go to Vegas for a weekend on a whim. Or, more realistically, go out to dinner without being "that couple" whose child is screeching for a balloon while dumping the hamburger he won't eat on to the floor. 

3) I can count to 10 and am in command of basic math: I'm a Supermom because I know that learning to count to ten when I was two-years-old has been the best tool in my arsenal for dealing with a tantrum. I'm not always patient and I'm not always the best version of myself when my child is testing every limit...but I'm in my 30s and my child is two -- basic math that has saved me from lashing out when all I really need to do is walk away.

4) I know that being a mom is the most important job there is: So, even when I have to go to work, I can put it all in perspective. I'm a Supermom because I know that since raising my sons is the most important job I'll ever do, it's worth putting some time into planning how to raise them...just like I plan a lesson plan. Do I want my boys to know how important giving is? Then they should see me and Matt give. Do I want them to love God? Then they should see me loving God. Simple really. I model my Language Arts instruction...a basic tenet of classroom teaching; and so I know I need to model my behavior for my own kids too. 

5) I can function on three hours of sleep (but not without coffee, so help me God): When women become moms, their bodies actually become virtually superhuman. Which is awesome and incredible and also a huge source of frustration toward the adult male who lives in my house and gets to snore while I'm nursing the baby every two-three hours. (And I'll admit to utilizing spite pretty effectively at four in the morning when I place a screaming child with a dirty diaper on top of Matt's chest and then roll over and conjure up some convincing snoring-like sounds myself.)

And that's it.

I can kid myself into thinking that because I sprinkle flax-seed on french toast, make our own granola, craft a cookie monster shirt out of felt, and can keep everyone's clothes laundered and folded...while still reading books and watching movies...that I've got this mom thing down. But that's a total sham. There are all different types of super-parents out there -- and I've come to embrace my inner super-parent...who might never be someone who can keep dishes out of the sink and dog hair off of the pacifier.

I'm lucky to be surrounded by people in my life who know that if they get this text -- "Sitting in the bathtub. Fully clothed. Crying" -- that they should come over to my house STAT and, preferably, bring coffee. And I can send that text and still be super -- which is a nice reminder for every mom out there.