I am Not Supermom
So often within my posts I mention the title Supermom. I say that you are a Supermom or that I am. I refer to our capes and I refer to our days of being a hero. But the truth of the matter is that I am not Supermom.
Supermom rises before the kids do each and every day and prepares breakfast all from scratch, NEVER from a box. She sits down to have her quiet time and read her devotionals while thanking God for her blessings and feeding the birds that are chirping out the window.
No matter how hard I try, I can hardly ever manage to rise before them.
Supermom doesn't yell. No, she is soft spoken with a bag of tricks and witty, quick thoughts to distract screaming children. Her children rarely have meltdowns and even when they do, Supermom keeps her cool. It's like an episode of Full House complete with a life lesson, a hug and inspirational background music.
I unfortunately, am not always that cool.
Supermom has a clean home with fresh sheets on the beds and floors without Cheerios. She even manages to not sweat the little messes when they happen, because messes are joyful when children are playing and being creative, right?
Messes make me crazy. There, I said it.
Supermom cooks every single night and manages to come in under her grocery budget every week. Meals are wholesome and probably organic and takeout is a rare treat. Snacks are homemade and smoothies run rampant.
But takeout is my go to.
Supermom has all of the time. She gets on the floor and always plays, always paints and always runs through the leaves. She's never distracted by the pending to do list running through her head and the clothes hampers are always empty.
My hampers are full. So, so full.
You see, I am not Supermom. I don't always have it together and my clothes hamper is only empty once in a blue moon. I look forward to bedtime some days and others I am fine with the extra snuggles and I treasure nap times more than chocolate because I so often need a reset after chasing three kids under the age of four all day long.
I am an imperfectly perfect mother to my children who struggles some days and thrives on others. I am a child of Christ under a father who guides me to do better, be better and find my grace when I'm falling. I am a mother. A mother who kisses away booboos, keeps her cool during middle of the night accidents, wakes up no matter how many times they need me and who cooks (organic) macaroni straight from the box.
I am a version of just me. Plain ole' me. I am not a version of you or the beautiful moms on social media. I am not all that I want to be sometimes and other times, I am all that I need to be. I am finding my grace when I fail and learning to grow as the days go on. I am learning to find the simple joys in the midst of the chaos and I am learning to imprint the treasures of these long, hard years of toddlerhood.
I am not Supermom. I am mom. I am a mother. I am a mommy. Sure I appreciate the title of supermom, but I am not a hero among mothers. I am a hero just to my children. I am all and everything that they need while still striving to be more. Every day, I strive to do better for them; not for my status and not for my cape. I am striving to do better for them so they can do better one day too.
I am a mother. And that's pretty super.
And you my dear mommy friend reading this, you ARE pretty super too. Remember that you do not have to be supermom, because she doesn't exist. You just have to be mom.