liar liar

I was in Target yesterday (child free which hardly EVER happens) and I saw a woman struggling to put her obviously very new infant in the cart. When offering my assistance I asked how old the baby was and she told me he (or she not quite sure since the car seat and outfit were both very gender neutral) was three weeks old. I smiled at her and asked “how’s it going?” and while obviously forcing a smile she replied “great”. While she continued on about how wonderfully he has adapted to his sleep schedule and how he never cries and is a pro at nursing I looked the woman over from her unbrushed hair to her mismatch socks, the bags under her eyes and the spit up stain on her shoulder and I couldn’t help but realize this woman was lying through her teeth! Now don’t get me wrong I am not making this assessment in a judgmental way, I felt sorry for the poor thing. And it occurred to me that we mothers spend our lives lying to other mothers about how great we’re doing when really we want to throw down our grocery bags and kick, scream, and bawl in the middle of the parking lot. There’s a competition of sorts among moms (particularly new ones) to see who can “adjust” the best. Women do their best to paint on a smile and go out in public beaming about how their little one is sleeping like a pro when in actuality they’ve been awake every night since they left the hospital. Why do we do this so each other? Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone if we just told the truth? Imagine walking up to a new mom in Wal-Mart and inquiring about how she was doing only to have her collapse into sobs and confess that not only has she not slept or showered in nine days but she can’t even remember what she came into the store for. Wouldn’t that be awesome? So often our imagined shortcomings as moms stem from lies that other mothers are telling us. In an effort to avoid feeling inferior we lie to each other about how potty training is the easiest thing we’ve ever done when if we just told the truth we could help each other. Itd be great to get together over a bottle of merlot and confess that when we stumble upon the broken glass or crayon mural on the wall that we secretly vow that we will never even think about sex again because sex is the reason we haven’t slept since our water broke! But no, in a sorority like fashion we paint ourselves and tuck the “baby belly” into some spanx, slap on a smile and some concealer to hide the bags and we brag and brag and brag. Being proud of your baby is one thing. After all I have been given the privelege of giving birth to the most awesome baby on the planet! But it’s ok to admit that motherhood is hard and we are in this together…it doesn’t become a competition until they hit high school!!!

America's Next Top Mom

So my one guilty pleasure (ok not the only one but the only one i have time for) is watching Top Model every single Wednesday night. This show is my superbowl and frankly I am not ashamed to admit my addiction. Nonetheless a woman was recently sent home on the show and during her teary eyed goodbye she said that she felt like she failed her daughter by getting sent home so early in the competition. This of course struck a nerve because I know exactly how she feels. From the time that I found out I was pregnant I felt that every accomplishment that I made was for my son. Every job I applied for every grade I earned I did so with his picture in my mind. Motherhood has a funny way of making you feel like a failure even in the midst of success because you feel like nothing you ever do will be enough for this tiny person that you are responsible for. I think this fact is both beautiful and absolutely terrifying because where do we draw the line of self deprecation and remember that we're just humans, despite the cape we wear and the dragons we slay there will come a time for all of us when there is something we cannot do. I of course refute this fact on a daily basis and slave night and day to make myself the superhero that i hope my little one thinks that i am some day. My mom is still my superhero and though growing older has allowed me to see her "human side" i still run to her for salvation because everyone knows that mommies can do absolutely anything. Right? I mean sure I havent lifted any cars lately. And the last time I checked I couldnt fly. In fact I still turn on the lights to watch a scary movie and run through a dark parking lot to get to my car. But dammit I make a mean blueberry pancake and cna single handedly make mac n cheese, type a paper, run the vacuum, wipe a nose and change a dirty diaper in five minutes flat...with one hand tied behind my back...uphill both ways...in the snow. SO THERE!

Bad mom jeans

I was walking down the street with my little one and my eyes landed on a woman. She was in a state of haggard that I've only seen on life time movies. As her little one bounced playfully along in his stroller the poor woman struggled to hold up the suitcases under her eyes while feigning a smile at a passerby though she looked as if she would collapse at any moment. In her jeans which were a size too small in the waist but a size too big in the butt she self concsiously adjusted her shirt as two twenty somethings in skinny jeans bobbed past. The poor woman was a typical mom, in typical bad mom jeans with a bad mom haircut and bad mom shoes. (I wish to pause right here for those of you unfamilar with the term and clarify that "bad mom" is not a reflection on parenting skills but merely states that the clothes themselves are "not as they should be" just so we're clear) I wanted to hug her, give her some reassurance, hell buy her a cup of coffee. As i inched closer I was struck by a frightening revelation. I was staring at my reflection in a store window. Who the heck was this woman and what did she do with the hip trendy milf I swore I was going to be??? Somewhere along the line I missed the memo about caring for my child AND myself. Healthy dinners turned into trips through the drive through. Hair appointments gave way to playdates. Manicures were replaced by...actually they weren't replaced but what's the point in getting a manicure if your hands are immersed in dishwater and diapers during all of your waking hours? Basically I gave up on glamour and pretty much gave up on me. On the brightside however my child remains traffic-stopping adorable and is the cleanest and most coordinated one year old you will ever lay eyes on. So what's the solution? How do you balance caring for "them" and caring for you? How do you find time to fix dinner AND fix your hair? What is the cutoff for maternity jeans when your regular ones dont fit and you can't buy new ones? How are you supposed to shave your legs while deflecting the toys, spoons, and various household objects your little one is trying to throw into the toilet? How can you be a mom AND a person? What you don't have the answers? O crap, you thought I did? Give me a minute i'll work on it and get back to you.