Elizabeth tagged me in the "Real Moms" meme last week. A meme where you use "Real Moms" as a writing prompt and go from there.
So I sat down to write it last night. And I sat. And I stared. And then I went to bed and racked my brain. So many cool moms have come up with fantastic perspectives on what real moms are like.
Some of the directions I've gone and thought better of:
Real Moms ... cry in the bathroom when no one can hear them, because they're worried, sad or just plain tired. I thought that was too negative and mostly just reflective of recent events and not necessarily my entire life as a Mom.
Real Moms ... get angry. They yell, snarl and sometimes even curse at or in the general direction of their kids. Real Moms get just plain pissed off that their kids just don't get that we do the same thing every day. Nothing changes. Clear the table. Bring me your laundry. Get ready for school without stopping to play Littlest Pet Shop in the hall. I chucked that one, because again, it was too negative and had more to do with the sit-down I had to have with Kristyn and Erin to get them back on track after a March Break of laziness.
Real Moms ... get drunk and then barf out the truck on Dwyer Hill Road. I know, it's gross and shameful, but I did this on Saturday. I do it once in a while to remind myself why I don't drink that much on a regular basis. I pitched this one because no one wants to read a post about me tossing my arroz con pollo at 80km/hour.
Real Moms ... enjoy sex with their husbands. Yeah, I said it. Every second night is our usual target and the more spontaneous the better. I like sex. I enjoy sex. And I insist on "enjoying it" a few times, if you get what I mean. I didn't make this my prompt because that's pretty much all I have to say about my sex life. It's good. End of story.
Real Moms ... worry they're making the wrong decision, a lot. Should both girls play competitive soccer? Should Erin return to dance next year when she's clearly not getting what she wants out of it? Should the girls go to Catholic high school one town over or switch to public and stay here in Almonte? Should we restart speech therapy for Alex even though he tended to regress with the therapist? Should we shell out the money for private therapy? Should I start waxing my eyebrows? Get the mole on my face removed even though it's been my signature feature for thirty years? It's growing hair and well ... ew. That one went to the basket because my facial hair is not something I want to devote a whole post to. Yet.
So ... it hit me this morning. As I yelled at my kids to hurry up, plucked a stray hair, remarked that my stomach finally feels better and told John just how on he was last night;
Real Moms are just making it through the day and basically have no idea what they're doing. It's not like some of us gave birth and just knew what to do. You know that Mom you're so jealous of? The one who has it together and makes it look easy? She's not real. She may not make it as obvious as you, but she has her thing. The thing that keeps her up at night on the verge of tears. She looks forward to grocery shopping alone like she used to look forward to clubbing till 5am and she's not sorry. Real Moms want a nap and someone to clean the house. Know what though? Real Moms love being Moms, no matter how negative they might portray it. They feel challenged and loved and find creativity in their children in ways impossible to explain.
Real Moms simple enjoy being real.
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Now I get to tag five people: Jay, Sherry, Anna, Dani and Jana when she gets home from her trip.
