I am Supermom.
I awoke at 6:30 a.m. with my son. Took care of morning essentials (kisses, diaper change, breakfast, clean-up, participated in a requested dance-a-thon). Spoke to the super about lack of hot water. Am in the midst of six loads of laundry (okay, I let it go…but now I’m handling the situation). Spoke to a contractor about problems with some work being done. Ordered from Fresh Direct (a luxury I am allowing myself this week, just because—and skipping the twice-weekly stops at the grocery store feels like a nice gift to myself). I planned a family trip to a minor league baseball game, posted pictures to Facebook, and handled a work crisis from home on my day off. Even squeezed in a fairly nutritious mini-meal for myself.
Did I mention, it’s only 11 a.m? And I only hit the highlights… My day has been chock-full beyond all that, and somehow, somehow, I have been fully present with my son MOST of those moments. He helped me load the laundry, and we giggled and giggled over the way the machines spin. He picked the music for our dance-a-thon and controlled the volume with the remote (a moment of weakness on my part). While I spoke on my cell regarding the work concern, he wielded a toy cell in one hand and our house phone in the other, one at each ear, mimicking me the whole time with a wide smile. And since words and more words have suddenly come pouring out of him this week, we chatted up a storm throughout our day.
So I’m not really Supermom. I feel like I am today. And that’s such a great, empowering, and not-all-too-common thing. I know I’m a good mother, and I always strive to be “super”—well, at least my best. But a superhero, I am not. Yet I think we as parents tend to beat ourselves up for inconsequential things far more easily than we give ourselves credit or a pat on the back. I’m not saying that we’re doing anything that parents haven’t done for generations before us (though, certainly, lifestyles and expectations have changed). No, moms and dads are SUPPOSED to take care of their children, and do it well. But there are plenty of things we’re supposed to do in life and we still give ourselves some credit. Why should the rigors and joys of parenting be any different?
So today I am giving myself a pat on the back. And it feels good. Not as good as the tackling hug I’m about to give my son, but darn close.
