As a mom, I am used to faking it.
From parenting success to arts and crafts projects, being patient, and the biggest one — being happy all the time.
Don’t get me wrong, my kids see me upset and they see me cry. I have found that the more I talk to other parents, especially other moms, I am learning how far this deception to ourselves and others can go. I’ve found we are ALL faking it. We just don’t want everyone else to know how we are really feeling. I try to keep it real and let family and friends know how good or bad being me can be on a day-to-day basis.
My house is not clean. It is not a trash pit or endangering the welfare of the family, but there is soap scum in my shower, toothpaste residue all over my bathroom and I’m not quite sure how long one of the containers in my fridge has been there. I try to dust, but so many other things are more interesting.
I think I have the same ‘disease’ most parents have when they start house work. The distraction of walking into a room to do a chore and getting sidetracked by another small job that takes you to another room where you notice a small job to do. By the end of the day I haven’t completed the dusting, but I have sorted my recipes or found the socks I put down last time when I thought I kicked a body hidden under the bed. It turned out to be dirty laundry.
How many times have you looked into the pantry or freezer and been clueless about a healthy dinner option? I would like to be so organized that I have a months worth of dinner ideas on paper and the means to make these amazing meals already on hand. Reality is that I am lucky to figure out one week at a time and sticking to it can be almost impossible when things come up. I want to be the kind of parent who can put a warm meal that everyone loves on the table every night at 5:30 p.m. and participate in the wonderfully loving banter of my family. I am exhausted almost every afternoon by the time I am supposed to be starting dinner. Homework, housework, errands and appointments all sap my energy reserves and sometimes my choice is to make dinner or fall apart. Realistically, I am counting down the minutes until the kids are tucked into their beds and I can collapse. Freezer pizza it is!
I would like to think I am a good mom. I know that this is not always the case. Again, I put out there on social media just like most parents, the good stuff. I save the soul crushing defeats for my own private misery. I don’t want anyone else to know that I fail on a regular basis. Being me is not as easy as I would like. I really do want to be the mom who bakes, sews, makes crafts and can whip up an amazing dinner worthy of Pintrest. I want to be that mom who can always smile and keep the dark stuff tucked away. Realistically, this mom probably doesn’t exist anywhere. Realistically, I fail at something every single day and my kids probably do not like me all the time because they have chores, vegetables and homework. My job as mom is 99 percent faking it and 1 percent realizing that lots of other parents are faking it right along with me. The fact that we all feel we have to pretend that we are Betty Crocker or Maria from “The Sound of Music” isn’t just detrimental to our sanity, but to the sanity of those around us. I WANT to be that parent, but I know that it is never going to happen. I can’t fake that level of calm and poise.
I can smile like everything is perfect, or I can be real with you about my family.
