Oh, look who forgot diapers, again. Guess who has to vacuum for the 29382098th time, today--guess who doesn't want to. Guess whose guest is crunching on cheerios as they sit on the couch? Guess whose kid's toys are strewn about in every basket in the house, nothing matching or pairing together anymore? And who's closet literally looks like an explosive blew up in it? Guess who's been stepping over clean laundry for weeks on end, and staring at the same lint balls in the corner of the kitchen and not doing a darn thing about it?
And these are just the easy ones.
I have no trouble telling on myself. On being all, I REALLY AM A WRECK A LOT OF THE TIME and being OK with it.
Every once in a blue moon (I'm really not that hard on myself) I'll have these moments where I check myself. Like, maybe this is actually not okay.
Last night I was in the bathroom, getting the girl's teeth brushed before bed when I noticed the same crumpled up bandaid trash on the counter, broken hair rubberbands that have laid there for days, and I was about to leave them there, AGAIN, rather than just cleaning it up so I could breathe. (Believe it or not, I actually like order and keeping things neat--it's just, I have trouble staying on top of everything.)
And I literally heard in my head, "I bet _____ doesn't leave her counters like this. I bet her bathroom is clean. She works a job, has two kids like you. You should probably clean this up, what's your excuse?"
And so I scrambled to clean up the counters, because, you know, so and so would never dare leave hers this way.
But, as soon as I gave myself a hard time about it, my brain quickly took over. How do I know she keeps her bathrooms clean at all times? What if she actually is more like me, feeling like she's grasping at straws by bedtime, and the stupid counters really are the last of your priority, and honestly--just.get.the.kids.to.bed is what really matters because, hello alone time, and, peace and quiet. And-the counters can wait.
I'm not silly enough to think that everyone is like me in my sometimes messy ways. But what I do get is that while I may succeed in one area, you may struggle in it. Or you may be a rockstar when it comes to having a beautiful home-cooked, well balanced meal every day, while I may be crossing my fingers it's time for another chick-fil-a trip. While my house can be an utter disaster most the time, the clean laundry never gets put away, and the sheets on the bed don't get washed as often as they should, you may be killin' it in that department--on schedule with All The House Chores and never missing a check-mark. Meanwhile, I'm over here crunching in cheerios all day long.
How can one possibly have it ALL together, all the time? I don't think they do. So the myth of a supermom is just that. A myth.
I really do not think that any one mom is ever a rockstar in all the ways. I think there is no physical way a person could possibly hold it together all the dang time, and do all the things, and still maintain her sanity, hold the love and affection of her family, and have a sparkly, clean home, all the laundry put away, perfect meals on the table, perfectly curled hair, children who wouldn't dare ever misbehave in public, yougetthepoint.
Maybe she lives out there somewhere. The mom who can really do it all. But I haven't met her. Have you?
If so, she's hiding something. She has to be.
So I'm gonna go ahead in live freely in the fact that I CANNOT DO IT ALL. I am okay with that. My family is happy. I am happy. That is freeing. And gosh darn it, I'm still calling rockstar status.
as you should, too.
(this post randomly fueled after reading this article, which I loved.)