I see all the Supermoms out there. You know, the crafty ones who pack completely nutritious lunches with treats that look like little animals. The ones whose houses are always clean. They have schedules color-coded and menus planned for the entire week. They volunteer at their kids’ school and in the community. They don’t look for ideas on Pinterest–they post their ideas and the rest of us try to emulate their awesomeness. They’re always perfectly coifed and cute and they’re in good shape and they smile. All the time. And they look like everything is just easy-peasy. They can do the mom thing with one hand tied behind their back.
The Supermom. Making the rest of us feel just a bit inadequate. Because we keep comparing our life to what theirs seems to be. But I think that’s the key–what their life really is and what it looks like to the rest of us aren’t the same.
Instead of Supermom, I think a better term is Synchronized Swimmer Mom. Everything on the surface looks calm and pretty and easy. But have you ever seen the underwater view–those chicas are going half crazy to keep themselves above water. They’re paddling and kicking with the enthusiasm of a cat that was thrown into the deep end. They’re in constant motion. If they stop moving they sink and the whole routine falls apart.
I’m amazed that there are women who can pull of the Synchronized Swimming thing. That’s not a comment on them, that’s a statement about me. I can’t even imagine being able to do all that. I’m a teeny bit jealous because I just don’t have the talent for that. No matter how hard I train for it, I just don’t have the skills to be a Synchronized Swimmer.
I’m more of a float-around-on-a-raft-with-a-margarita kind of mom.
An I’ll-get-around-to-it-when-I-do type.
An if-you-make-an-unexpected-visit-you’ll-have-to-stay-on-the-porch-because-I’m-too-embarrassed-to-let-you-in-and-see-my-mess variety.
Hell, when I come home from the grocery store, I feel accomplished when I get all the cold stuff in the freezer and fridge. There have been times that it’s taken me days to get everything else put away. I couldn’t possibly keep up with the demands of training to be a Swimmer Mom. I just don’t have it in me.
I guess my kids will have to develop the survival skills needed to make it with a mom who operates like a cat trying to do the doggy-paddle. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go look for my floaties.