Us moms joke about being Super Mom and winning Mom of the Year awards. These days, in this culture, we strive to be the best. Between Pinterest and our friends on social media, we fall short more often than we succeed.
Well, I don’t want all that. I don’t want to be Super Mom. I want to be relatable, because who can relate to perfection? I would prefer my friends and acquaintances to want to talk to me and to know I am always here for them. I would rather people see my flaws and not hold me up to some unattainable position. So here is me being relatable:
My girls’ rooms are never clean. They may clean a path occasionally, and that is fine. I can always shut their door.
There are dog hair tumbleweeds floating around the house no matter what I do.
My attempts at keeping the kitchen counter clear have about a 63% success rate.
When my husband isn’t home for dinner, the girls eat mac n cheese for dinner while I eat a bowl of cereal. High class all the way.
Even when we are all together, I don’t really enjoy cooking. Probably because unless I serve tacos every night, someone is going to be disappointed with what I made. (And the one who feels this way the most might be the youngest….)
The girls’ pants always seem too short for their long legs. Do I feel guilty for their cold ankles? Nope. I just tell them to quit pulling their pants so high on their waist.
I let the girls cry it out when they were younger. They are fine now.
I also let them *gasp* play outside without me hovering.
The girls have now gone 3 nights without a bath, which is unacceptable, even to my apparently low standards. We have been out late 2 of those nights. That’s what I’m going with.
I love my family with a fierce and powerful love. They know it. They know Jesus loves them too. So I try not to worry about the rest. They are only young and smelly for a short time.
See now, isn’t this better than me listing all of my motherhood accomplishments? Didn’t I make you feel better about yourself? Oh, and if you are better than me at all of this, I don’t want to hear it.
Linking with Holley Gerth