My mom was and is Super Mom. I can remember how she was able to do EVERYTHING. She worked outside of the home my entire life (and still does). She was up early every morning, Monday through Friday, to get herself ready before loading up two kids for school and/or daycare and then hitting the corporate world to make a living. She picked us up after work, brought us home, and cooked dinner.
She wasn’t a single mom and my dad was always in the loop, usually assisting “behind the scenes” either with homework or any sort of school related issues we had, but she seemed to be the one keeping everything flowing.
After dinner, she cleaned house, did laundry, or yard work, pretty much kept up the semblance of a healthy, balanced house and home life.
When we were younger, she gave us our baths, got us into bed (all with the help of my dad) and then would retire for the evening.
As we got older, she was always able to balance home life with work life, especially with all of our after school extracurricular activities that would cut into her nights and weekends. She was a juggler who was never trained in the sport and not a jack of all trades, but rather THE MASTER. I admired my mother for her work ethic, her love, her devotion, and her ability to sacrifice every part of herself for me and my brother. I still admire her at 37 and as a mother myself. I aspire to be like her as much as possible and if I could be 1/10th as good of a mother as she is, then I will be happy.
This week, I hit a bit of a depression state all triggered by the shattering of our glass top stove. I had myself second-guessing everything I did as a mother. I had myself doubting my abilities as a mother. I actually said things to my husband that gave him reason to pause with worry and looking back on it, I can’t believe I allowed something so tangible and replaceable as a stove, to shatter my confidence and resolve.
I spent the better part of 7 hours crying in front of my son, cuddling him in my arms, rocking him, apologizing to him for having me as a mother. I can only imagine what he thought of me and the situation.
When I wasn’t crying, and even while I was crying, I compared myself to my mother and the standards she unconsciously set forward as a mother. What would she think about me and the situation? So, I called her after the 7 hour crying spell and like always she came through as Super Mom and the river of tears were dammed up.
There’s always an underlying “theme” to a lot of my posts…being a mother is so HARD. I’m challenged every day with some days feeling like I’ve been knocked down the stairs a few times. Thankfully for me, I have a tremendously huge support network of friends and family and the best baby in the world.
And in case you’re wondering what sent me on my downward spiral, here’s a picture of it.