Just when I think I've achieved Super Mom status, my kids know exactly how to bring me back down to Earth—yanking me by the cape.
I've been struggling with that term ever since I started writing this column and my editor headlined it, "Introducing Super Mom." For one bright, shining moment I believed the hype.
Then reality set in.
My son Jimmy pointed out how dark the circles were under my eyes, the other day. "Mommy, you must be really tired. You have, like, baseball player black circles under your eyes," he said.
To which I responded, "Let me tell you where these black circles came from…" Because I was trying to achieve Super Mom status, I did not go into the minutia of what, besides genetics, contributed to said circles (I don't have enough space here anyway).
My 5-year-old daughter Mary Kate, yanks me out of Super Mom orbit nearly every day by refusing to wear ANY of the beautiful hand-me-downs she has hanging in her closet. Or, at least she will not wear them in ways that match. Flowered shirt? Perfect with her plaid skirt! Soccer cleats? Why not wear them on a shopping trip to Target? Wear them while actually playing soccer? Never!
If I were a stronger, more powerful Super Mom, I would find a way to stand up to her and her clothing choices. But she is a 41-pound dictator (although calling her Lexi Luther would be a little much). Besides, we have to leave the house at some point. Instead, I spend a lot of time explaining to her teachers why she is wearing the Barbie T-shirt and pink tutu skirt for the third day in a row.
My 7-year-old daughter Amelia, could care less about what she wears, and I thank her every morning for putting on what I laid out for her (although, she too, sometimes gets the non-matching bug). Instead, she knocks me out of Super Mom contention by being the family prankster. Leave out my mascara? What a neat tool with which to write "Amelia was here" in large letters on the bathroom vanity! Forgotten tube of Neosporin? Perfect way to "decorate" her brother's toothbrush! I won't even go into what she did the time she found an unattended box of, ahem, female products.
Many times I try to laugh at the situation by posting it on Facebook. Then, many of my friends who are going through, or have gone through the same thing, laugh with me and share similar stories.
But sometimes, when the circles under my eyes are really dark, the outfit on Mary Kate is really bad and Amelia pulls off one naughty prank too many, I lose it. Perhaps that wasn't the Lutherville Volunteer Fire Company alarm you heard going off last week.
I'd like to blame the media for putting pressure on all of us to be super moms, but that's so cliché and, besides, I like to think I'm part of the media. I think it comes down to the pressure we put on ourselves. Sometimes I feel like I'm surrounded by moms who have it much more together than I do. Surely they never yell at their kids or want to crawl into bed at 7:30 p.m.
But then, when sanity kicks back in, I think, who really cares if Mary Kate looks like a ragamuffin? Amelia's mascara graffiti washed right off the vanity. And, maybe I should be glad that Jimmy is observant enough to notice that I'm tired. I'm just so thankful that they're healthy, vibrant kids and I'm the one lucky enough to be raising them.
Super Mom is overrated anyway.
Do you feel pressure to be a "Super Mom?" How do you deal with life's little stressers? What did your child do the last time he or she plucked at your last nerve?