Tag Archives: imperfection

Coming to Grips with Who I’m Not

Before Pinterest- I was AWESOME.

I mean, I don’t like to brag, but I was crafty, creative, made amazing meals, was able to entertain my boys, was an amazing wife- heck, I was even pretty good and knowledgeable at running.

And then Pinterest came along.

Now, I don’t know if you know this, but unless you’re able to recreate the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel using the items from your kiddo’s lunch, you’re doing a sub-par job as a mom.

I have well over 20 “boards” on Pinterest, all designed to make me a better EVERYTHING.  By all accounts, if you were to look at my page, you’d probably think,”Man- that gal is like Wonder Woman”, and you’d be wrong.  I’m a Sortasupermom, but I digress.

The funny thing was, for a long time, I spent more time “pinning” the life I wanted, and less time LIVING that life.  5,296 pins (give or take) on how to entertain my boys, and for what?  They’re currently “cleaning” their room by throwing the items at each other, and using the pillows as weapons and fort material (another thing to clean up later).  They don’t care that I pinned how to make yet another craft using hands and footprints.  Pins about new meal ideas?  They like all the old ones (plus, there are only so many mealtimes in a lifetime- I’m pretty sure I have more than I need to justify more pinning).  Pins about hairstyles?  Oh, good grief- my standard go to is the Mommy-tail, and if I EVER have any time on my hands, and I use it to style the perfect updo on myself, I give you all permission to have me committed.  Pins on how to decorate my home (ok- holding onto those) using nothing by pallets (I might have a problem there)- we don’t make enough money to even afford all the hundreds of pallets I’d need.  Oh- and pins on how to make myself a better, more informed runner- because pinning about running is JUST as beneficial as running itself, obviously.

Its hard, because I compare myself to others a lot as it is.  Facebook doesn’t help in that area, but Pinterest is the “friend” that says,”You can be that awesome, too!  Just follow these simple 6,235,728 steps (pins)…”

Everyone thinks about who they are.  Little kids are always asked what they want to be when they grow up (for the record, I’m still not an astronaut or a rock star, but I DID become a mom); adults are asked what they do for a living (for the record, the next person who tries to tell me that being a Stay at Home Mom isn’t a job, well, I might slug you- or better yet, have you watch my boys for a week and see if you need a vacation… which I won’t pay you for any of it).  And you can read articles all over geared toward teaching you how to be who you want to be.  One of the slogans for a military branch is even “Be all you can be”.

But its not often that someone is told to embrace who they AREN’T.

Coming to grips with who I’m not designed to be is kinda freeing and a tad on the terrifying side.  Its hard, because- especially as a mom- I’m told I should be able to have it all, do it all, be it all, but I’ve found that that mindset just breeds discontent with what I have and who God created me to be.  Its scary, though, to ask the questions: What if I’m NOT supposed to be the crafty mom?  What if I’m NOT supposed to be the wife that always has the perfect conversation starters and is able to “complete” her husband (answer: I actually CAN’T complete him- that wasn’t God’s design for wives, otherwise, why would we need God?)?  What if I’m NOT supposed to be Julia Child in the kitchen?  What if I’m NOT supposed to be the next Flo Jo?

What if all I’m meant to be is all I am right now?  Is that enough?

I’ve told my boys too many times to count that they shouldn’t compare their lives and our family to their friends, so why am I constantly trying to achieve perfection based on what I see according to Pinterest and Facebook?

Hopefully no one started reading this, thinking,”Oh!  She’s going to tell us her secret!”, because that isn’t going to happen, otherwise the title would be ‘How I Came To Grips With Who I’m Not- And How You Can Too!”  Even as a Christian, its hard to accept that I was lovingly made a certain way, with certain gifts, and that I don’t have ALL the gifts.

And, I most definitely don’t have the gift – nor the patience- to create lunch art.

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Your Sparkly Life is Blinding

FamilyWithPups1

(Image courtesy of Google & Norman Rockwell)

I’m sorry, but we can’t be Facebook friends anymore.

Its not you- its me.

Well, actually, its me being jealous of the perfect life you portray.  EVERY.  SINGLE.  DAY.

Normally, I can try and be happy for you.  I WANT to be happy for you.  I LONG for the feelings of genuine pleasure when I see your posts of your perfectly portrayed life.

I’ve even told myself to “fake it til I make it”, but today *sigh* today was the last straw.

Today- after I found cat food dumped into the toilet ; found cat litter (and poop) strewn about the bathroom floor; dealt with a toddler meltdown of epic proportions because I wouldn’t let him suck down an tube of Oragel; listened to fights over video games that started before any sane person should get up during the summer; stepped on THE SAME BLOCKS I had already told the boys to pick up 50 TIMES today; and then found my purse, with all its contents scattered over ever inch of my bedroom floor- I logged onto Facebook and got a virtual punch to my gut from your post.

There were your sweetpeas, like a  Norman Rockwell painting, in all your perfectly portrayed glory, doing something perfect-

And I just can’t deal.

I know- I’m behaving irrationally and making hasty decisions.  I’m blaming it on lack of sleep since- while your little darlings slept through the night with visions of sugar plums dancing through their heads, allowing you to wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed enough to go get a fancy coffee after eating a hearty, homemade, organic breakfast and then get in a workout sans kids- my night and morning was a TAD less smooth.  I went to bed with a toddler who took up half my space, got woken up in the middle of the night by a kid who had a nightmare and wanted to sleep with us, too, and then realized that my small amount of space had grown even smaller with the addition of the family pets.  I was then woken up WAY too early, made coffee myself, justified my coffee as my breakfast since that was all I had time for, and prayed for nap time.  And while your husband gets normal days off, mine works EVERY SINGLE DAY, so getting his help isn’t an option.

So, yeah- I’m tired, and bitter, and jealous, and MAYBE acting a little childish- call it a side effect from dealing with 4 imperfect boys in all their imperfection.

You’re a nice person- sickeningly so- but I’m just not mature enough to be happy for you 24/7- but, at least, I’m mature enough to admit to that.

And maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe your life isn’t perfect.  Maybe, like most of us, you’re just posting the highlights, and you keep your dirty laundry hidden away; but, while your highlights include you being crowned Miss America for the 5th time in a row, my highlight reel might sound more like,”Yay!  I made it through the day without any kid poop incidents!”  Which also leads me to believe that your dirty laundry is just that- you have a load of dirty laundry that *gasp* you haven’t done in 3 days… because you were building a house with Habitat for Humanity.

I’m honestly NOT a “misery loves company” kind of girl, but your sparkly life is blinding me.

Like I said, its not you, its me.

But if a day should ever come when you really do have a crisis in your life, you’re always welcome to call on me.  We can hide in my laundry room, sit on my oversized pile of dirty laundry, and attempt to block out the sounds of my boys trying to off each other, and I’ll listen as long as you need me to.  Chances are I’ve been there.

And I’ll try REALLY hard not to silently cheer if I see spinach caught in your perfect teeth.