Today marks the second week that my kiddos have been in school and that I've been working at the school...just two days, so you wouldn't think that it's a big deal, but well, it's been a...
I'm learning how to maintain my stamina with 31 of my favorite second graders while helping my sixth, fourth and kindergartner to acclimate to new teachers, upcoming tests, lack of sleep and a new energy that hasn't been present for several months.
In an effort to blow off some steam and just get away from it all, I went to see Bad Moms. I know I'm late to the party, but have you seen this movie?
Sweet Mary Mother of God, I laughed my arse off.
And while waiting to get into the theater, I shit you not, a group of hooch mamas rolled in (I only say hooch because they wore clothes that I could only dream of shimmying into) and pulled out a bottle of wine they loaded into their handbags to make the movie more interesting.
I remarked on the wedding ring of one of the girls saying, "Sweet Jesus...that's gorgeous!" to which her friend said, "I know right?!!! She's getting married and clearly that's a rock to be proud of! Versus (and she pulls up her own hand, points to her wedding ring) THIS...Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Nothing," laughs and walks away.
I'm not gonna lie. I peed myself a little.
While I was watching the movie, I realized that I'm exhausted by living in a space of judgement, particularly as a mom.
For fuck sake, we are all just trying to do the best that we can and knowing the amount of self deprecating thoughts that run through our heads, the last thing we need is to worry about what the PTA president thinks of us; when it is that we last showered ourselves or our kids; how many Facebook friends we have; whether our kids bring Jimmy Johns for lunch or if we dropped the f-bomb in front of them.
And so, struggling to remind myself that I'm doing okay...not perfect, but okay...I mosied up the stairs after a long day to find this by my bedside.
And I lost it. Maybe, it's all going to be okay. Maybe, they love me in spite of me. Maybe, they see something that I don't in me. Maybe, I am enough.
Maybe, we're all bad moms and in admitting so, we put an end to the farce that perfectionism is possible in this mad dash to parent and to work and to clean and to love and to mess up and to disappoint even when you tried really hard not to.
Maybe, we could all just accept that it's hard and we're really lucky to get share our lives with these crazy rug rats who are probably turning into amazing human beings.
And that, imperfect sea legs are better than not trying at all.
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