I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to measure up to others expectations of me.
With age and experience, I have been able to leave a portion of that “yes girl” mentality behind me. I say “portion” because somehow I have found that I am still trying to measure up, but to my standards and it turns out that when I don’t measure up, I get really bitchy. Here’s why – because other moms are able to do way more with less. Other moms can find better bargains, thus saving their family money. Other moms play more with their kids. Other moms parent better. Other moms are able to figure out what hats to wear faster. Other moms are able to engage their partners more. Other moms don’t get as tired. Other moms don’t let their kids watch TV or eat anything with red dye in it. Other moms have cleaner houses. Oh yeah, other moms are thinner.
The real pisser? I did this to myself. Thaaaat’s right – no one can make me feel quite as shitty as I can. These other moms I’m constantly competing with live in my head – they don’t exist.
I am a wife, mother, sister, friend, maid, launderer, boo boo kisser, cruise director, baker, entertainer, chef, event organizer, short order cook, chauffeur, photographer, personal shopper, potty trainer and the list is added to daily. Somewhere in there I think the word “me” has been lost, what happened to “I am me?”. Isn’t that something we teach our kids at early ages? That no matter what, you always have to be you?
Don’t get me wrong. I do enjoy what I do. I have the privilege of molding and shaping the lives of wonderful kids. I also get to stay at home full time, not something all moms are able to do in this economy. I truly do love cooking and baking, it relaxes me, and yes, I also make my own laundry soap and I wear a vintage apron.
But you know what? My life is not a Latter Day Saints commercial. Fuck I hate those commercials. Yeah, making people feel like total shit won’t get their asses in the pews, but that’s just my personal view. I had an LDS moment the other day when Emmy wanted to play catch but supper needed to be made and dishes to be done. Now, I did go play ball, but when I came in the house, Jesus was not making a stir fry and He was not elbow deep in sudsy water doing my dishes. That’s just false advertizing.
What I want to see is a commercial of truth. Where the kid, wearing yesterday’s spaghetti stained dress, asks Mom to play catch. Mom looking ragged as if she hasn’t bathed in several days, is making Kraft Dinner & passes the kid a red jube jube to pacify her until they can go outside. Kid returns to watching The Doodlebops and mom flips between Facebook and recipe sites until the timer for the KD goes off. Mom gets Kraft Dinner on the table with a side of peas and carrots (frozen) and then they go out to play catch. For about 10 minutes. Child is then lured into the house with a promise of soda (watered down) and bath time begins. Dad gives child bath and gets child’s teeth brushed while Mom cleans the kitchen in top speed, ’cause if all goes well, there might actually be some sex tonight & she bought new flavoured lube. Mom heads upstairs where child isn’t wanting to sleep, so one more story it is. Eventually, child & Dad both fall asleep on child’s bed. Mom goes in to collect Dad and the pair of them collapse onto their bed surrounded by laundry, toys and various other household crap that’s found its way into the master bedroom. They fall asleep and the lube stays tucked away neatly as kids tend to suck every sexual impluse out of their bodies anyway and the Mom is kind of thankful ’cause she wasn’t so much looking forward to the thwaping sound of her gunt against her thighs.
But that would be a really long commercial.
Note – I actually do like Mormons. I’ve met all of the Osmond family. However, the amount of money wasted spent stalking seeing the Osmonds entitles me to criticize LDS commercials.