I was in a long line at Aldi's. If you've ever been there before you know the line will move quickly. Even so, it was still a bit stressful because I had my 2 kids with me and a week's worth of groceries in my cart. At this point, Grace was walking next to me because the cart was full, which means she is no longer caged and contained. While I was waiting my turn, another lane opened. I began the mad rush of turning the cart quickly to wiggle my way into the adjacent lane. A very old, hunched over man with a cane, walked in front of me and took my spot. It wasn't fair. He hadn’t been waiting in line like I had. His timing just happened to be perfect. But I wasn't upset. He was an old man. I almost felt good to let the old guy go first. He only had one bag (at Aldi's you need to bring your own bags-you're right, it's not where shopping is a pleasure). He even had trouble lifting the heavy bag full of food onto the conveyer belt. By this point I'm glad the great grandpa cut in front of me; I was feeling pretty good about myself. By the time I had checked out and was walking out of the store, he had just walked up to the handicapped spot. I told you he moved very slowly. He walked up to a convertible Ferrari. What?!!! I thought this guy must be losing his mind. He must have forgotten which car was his. I expected he would be looking for an old Cadillac with his little silver haired wife waiting to drive him home. But no, he actually had the keys for this Ferrari. How would he drive being so hunched over? How can someone who can barely walk, drive this beautiful Ferrari? And then I thought why is someone who owns a Ferrari shopping at Aldi's? Sure enough he got into that beauty and drove off like it was just another normal shopping experience. I felt a little duped. This guy wasn't oblivious to cutting me off in line and stealing my rightly due spot. It's very possible he used his hunchback and crawl of a walk to get what he wanted. It gave me a good laugh.
I love nothing more than an honest person, even more so, an honest mom. There are times that I see a mom who seems to have all her ducks in a row. Everyone is listening, she looks pretty in her skinny jeans, her house is clean, and so on. But I'm not duped like I was by the old man. As a mom myself, I put pressure on myself to be this perfect mom that I have somehow imagined in my head. Not only do I want to still look like a woman (hair brushed and maybe something cute to wear) but I want to have the perfect relationship with my kids where they respect me but also enjoy and trust me. Give me the "How to be a Perfect Mom" pamphlet and I'll follow it. And probably even more so, I want others around me to think I'm doing a pretty good job.
It is always refreshing to me when I see a mom having a difficult time. Not in some morbid way. For her sake, I hope she's ok. But for my sake, it reminds me that no one is perfect. That being a mom is really hard. I love when someone is honest and tells me what kind of struggle they are having with their kids or how they are failing or how they want to grow in a certain area. It's like it removes this unsaid unattainable bar that I have made for myself and often assume others have attained. Once some truth is said, it puts us on the same playing field.
Sometimes I wonder how or when I made this imaginary mommy scale in my head. Some of it comes from my pre-mommyhood years. Pre-mommy years, it was easy to judge or make opinions about what I will do or not do when I'm a mom. Then I had a baby and reality hit. I think that I'm a good mom if I do x,y, and z. It's also easy for me to compare my kids behavior with other kids...which is a TERRIBLE idea. But I think more than anything, it just comes from me watching other moms and making assessments about them. There is a mom at Nathan's school that is a skinny minny and always dresses so cute, hair and makeup done, plus she is genuinely so nice. It's easy and natural for me to unconsciously think she's got it all together. I compare myself to this perfect mom and then feel discouraged as I look down at my dirty baggy jeans, pony tailed hair, flip flops on my feet and then hear fighting in the back seat.
But I believe the truth is that even that perfect mommy struggles. No one likes poopy hands, being woken up at night, being told no by a 2 year old in front of their friends, and feeling like they failed again. You never get to punch out at work at the end of the day and even when you do get a mini-vaca from them you are still thinking about them. So why is my goal to be this perfect mom? What if my goal was to do the best job I can, knowing I'm going to fail at times (probably A LOT of times) and to be ok with that. If my new bar that I set in my head was to say I'm sorry to my children when I do mess up, to tell other moms when I am struggling, and I don't have to be perfect, would I survive? I think it would be mommy freedom. I don't want to be like the old man who jumped into his Ferrari. This is me...a mom who dearly loves her kids, who is always questioning what I'm doing, who is not perfect. Rather than despising that, I want to relish that. What am I teaching my kids if I have a high bar that I have to attain? That there is a high bar for them to attain. Instead, I want to lead by example of being honest in where I'm at...an imperfect mom who loves her kids.
