I'm an overwhelmed mommy. And, if one were to peruse the internet, it would seem my kind are a dime a dozen. It seems that the world is flooded with "bad mommies". If you read the blogs and articles of my ilk you would think that all of us vacillate between these superhuman mommy-machines and self deprecating she-beasts. Is that who I am? Really?
I feel that way sometimes, certainly, but it's not really what I signed up for. My biological clock didn't click loudly at the age of 30 ringing with a chorus of "I MUST PROCREATE SO I HAVE SOMETHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT AND FAIL MISERABLY AT!"
So, on the days when I am sick of my own voice and I feel like one more tug on my proverbial apron will send me to the loony bin, why is it all I can find to sooth me are other "bad mommies" at their wits' end? Does it all go back to our formative years? Those moments in high school where we solidified our girlfriend status by standing in front of the locker room mirror and playing, 'I'm fatter, no, seriously I am totally fat!" I always sucked at that game. Maybe that's why, not unlike high school, I have a hard time finding comfort in the "bad mommy" game.
So, why is it so OK to talk about all those annoying, embarrassing mommy gaffs, but less OK to talk about all the tender moments - those moments that make you proud of who you have become and who your children have become? – The moments that might actually make you feel better about yourself and your situation rather than like you just need a stiff drink. Although I have often engaged in a good vent, I never really feel any better after. I just feel all the more worked up. It's not until I step back and take a breath and look at it with new eyes, that a situation seems workable.
When I enter a mommy-circle, I feel self-conscious and unsure of myself. My children have turned me into a person that is totally new to me. Some days I hardly recognize myself, and that has brought me back to the uncertain place of my adolescence, where I don't know what to say. I don't feel comfortable talking about all the amazing things my kids do, because I don't want to seem like I'm bragging. But at the same time, I'm not happy sitting around talking about how every decision I make is potentially scarring and destroying my children, or how inept my husband is - because he's not, or how I really just need a bottle or two of wine - daily.
So, I turn to the internet. I read mommy blogs and wonder, are we all super human mommy machines? Or are we all self deprecating she-beasts? I hope that I am neither. I hope that my family has helped me to become a more powerful and focused version of me - one that can see outside of herself and give freely without giving it all away. I hope that I am a good mommy. I hope that when my boys look back they remember dancing to loud music in their rooms and the words to the lullabies I sing every night. I hope they remember the strength of my hugs and how to drive monsters out from under beds. And not the time I lost it in the Menards parking lot because they just wouldn't listen, and I was scared because I couldn't find them. Or maybe I do hope they remember that, but remember that I Really was just scared and desperate and not merely a big angry face and a loud voice.
Not every little decision should be held up to the light and examined. That is a difficult thing for me - not to overanalyze every step I make and check it for faults. My children have stripped away all of the touch-ups and mending I have done over the years so that now every ding and scratch in my self shows. And I try to look down on those dings and be proud because they give me the perspective to help me on my journey. But it's hard, because I have spent a lot of years making sure no one could see them at all.
Children may not always bring out the best in us, but they do bring out the real. And I'm working very hard to be proud of the real me - scratches and all.
I am a good mommy. Somedays I yell. Somedays I question every move I make. Somedays I sit down and cry. Somedays I create amazing memories. Somedays I do nothing but enjoy the day with two precocious, growing boys. But everyday I get the opportunity hug and kiss the people who make me the best me I can be. The real me. And that's worth it all. Even when I'm completely overwhelmed.
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