Something that I have struggled with and still struggle with is the idea of being a good mother. Not the act of being a good mother, but the idea.
The idea that dinner should be cooked and on the table no later that 6 pm. The idea that my child should be able to do this and that. The idea that my house should be spotless. The idea that I should not be too tired to participate in adult activities. The idea that I should be able to host a gathering at the drop of the hat in the perfect servingware and matching outfit.
It’s an idea that will drive you insane. Pinterest will drive you insane, but that’s for another day. It will have you feeling as if you are not as good of a mother or even a good mother at all. Sometimes, I have to take a step back and realize, I am a good mother.
No my son is not in the most prestigious school, but he is learning. My child is one and can count to ten. I’m happy with that. He can sing most of the ABC song and can point to letters A – E. No my son does not speak 4 different languages nor is he learning any language other than English at this moment. And that’s okay. My son says Amen before he eats and before he goes to bed. Winning!!
Dinner is not always cooked nor on the table by 6 pm. Sometimes dinner comes from a can. I work full time and I’m in school full time. Sometimes Spaghetti-Os are whats for dinner, for everybody. And that’s okay. My child’s not hungry. Sometimes we go to Grandma’s to eat. That’s okay. My child’s not hungry. I don’t have to have a home cooked meal on the table every day. I would love to be able to, but the reality is some days, it’s impossible. Some days I don’t get off of work until 7 pm and then have class at 9 pm. Stouffers or take out. I let my love decide. Everyone gets full. Victory!!
My house is not spotless. There are toys on the floor as I speak. It’s not a mess, but it’s lived in. We don’t just stay in our home, we live here. It’s not spotless and I’m not sure it will ever be as long as my child is with me. I hear it gets worse when they become teenagers. It’s okay. My son knows to put trash in the bin and he knows where his toys go. Success!!
I’m not the 1950’s housewife who has everything ready on matching servingware with the perfect Pinterest horderves. The woman who can entertain an entire group of people, clean the entire house top to bottom and then go in the bedroom bottom up. That’s not me. And guess what? That’s okay.
“Comparison is the thief of joy” ~ Theodore Roosevelt
Every once in a while I have to remember that how other people live their lives is not necessarily for me. At the end of the day, my child is clean, clothed, full and happy. My love is taken care of and happy with me and I am happy with him. I am enough for him. More importantly, I am enough for myself. There is always room for improvement on anything. I would love to be a housewife and do all of these things. But the reality is, I’m not. I a working mother, like the million others. I am a fill time student, like the million others.
I am not a Hollywood fabricated housewife, nor am I a reality housewife. I am a real person. I am me and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am enough.