Tag Archives: motherhood

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.

Don’t Let Me Forget

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(Image via gagaoverbabies.blogspot.com)

As I sit here, holding your perfect little 9lb 1oz body, a million thoughts run through my mind: “Holy cow- he’s mine!” “You seem so small, but 9lbs is big- isn’t it?” “I’m a mom!  Wait- I’m a MOM?” “How am I going to do this?  I can’t even keep a plant alive.”  And then you yawn and stretch and you grab my finger as if to say,”Don’t you DARE go anywhere mom- you’re mine, and I’m yours.  We’re in this together.”  And I pray,”Please, God- don’t let me forget this moment.”

I hear laughing (which is sometimes suspicious with boys), and I look in your room to see the two of you acting like whales- stretching up high while standing on the bed and “diving” onto the floor while making splashing sounds.  I grab the camera to record the moment, but deep down I know that watching a video of this years from now won’t be the same, and I pray,”Please- don’t let me forget.”

Its been a long day- it usually is when you’re a stay at home mom, or a mom at all, for that matter- and I’m watching the clock intently, willing it to move faster.  I look over to the living room and I see your 3 year old self, rocking out to The Backyardigans, complete with fantastic break dancing moves.  I think to myself,”This is what keeps me from selling you on EBay.”  You look at me, smile, and say,”Bee boop- I am a robot!”  I sigh, and pray,”Please, God- don’t let me forget.”

You’ve had a long day- we both have, but somehow it seems to have been harder on you.  I guess its tough being a toddler.  15 meltdowns, no nap, and a world record cry-fest, and you’re looking like you’ve gone a few rounds with a prize fighter- drained, red eyed, snot nosed, and ready to collapse.  What I wouldn’t give for you to finally pass out so I can relax!  You look at me, take take my hand, lead me to the rocker, and say in a shaky voice,”Hold you.”  I pick you up, gather your once-smallish body onto my lap, and listen as your breathing gets deeper.  I stare at your perfect face with the freckles I love sprinkled across your nose, much like your brother’s.  I can practically see the moment when your tired body finally gives in to the exhaustion, as a small smile creeps onto your face.  I breath deep, knowing that tomorrow will probably be the same as today and I pray,”Please, PLEASE, don’t let me forget this.”

You’ve got 3 older brothers with busy schedules; a busy mom and dad; and yet you smile through it all.  I can tell you’ve been watching me intently today as I’ve been cleaning the disaster that is our home, and suddenly I hear your tiny voice say,”Sit with me.”  I’ve still got floors to vacuum and counters to clean, but as I’m about to say,”In a little bit”, I realize I’ve been saying that to you all day.  Cleaning IS important, but I realized that all day I had been saying,”Cleaning is more important than you”, so I sit down.  You grab hold of my hand- much like your oldest brother did those many years ago- as if to say,”You aren’t going anywhere.”  And I don’t.  And I pray again,”Please, God- don’t let me forget.”