confessions…

L.O.N.G. week here in the den. My foxling and I have gotten a shit-ton of work done, the days seem to be melting by quicker than before, and I am trying to play some sort of mental catch-up. Catching up to what, or whom is the question I have been asking myself.  As my moon-time creeps closer, my sleep becomes interrupted, and I find myself laying awake early in the mornings, trying to go back to sleep, and just run the never-ending tape loop of our life over and over, trying to make some sense of where and who I am now, and how the hell I got here.

I hate being a parent, hate it with a passion… I adore my foxling, love her to the ends of the earth and back, feel happiest when we are together working and laughing, am devoted to her health, happiness and well being and take my role as her caregiver more seriously than I ever took my marriage. I am here for her, present in every imaginable facet, am her confidant and her biggest fan. I LOVE HER !!!! What I do not love, is the act of parenting. I have never felt so impotent, like such a failure in my life. Like I am missing the secret, and if I could just figure it out, all the pieces would fall into place and our life would be “perfect”, like June Cleaver on a sunny afternoon…

I have asked advice for 13 years, and came to the conclusion that I am the only mom who feels this way, which shames me even more. When did women, moms in particular become so competitive ? When did we decide that offering advice, a helping hand and being friendly and honest was less important than maintaining the illusion that “super mom” exists and you, my dear, are most assuredly NOT HER ?! I am a strong, organized, brilliant, youngish woman who has always taken pride in the things I do well, and work hard to improve my shortcomings. Before I became a mom, those shortcomings were minor,  and did not take up much of my time or energy… after all, I had my life to live, and life was fun. =)  Then all hell broke loose, I met Susie Perfect at the playground, and life has been a mad race to catch up to her ever since. I never imagined those women were real, the ones who got up at 5 am to put on eyeliner before making coffee for her husband, or made 4 kinds of home made muffins for the “playdate” the 3 month olds were required to attend several times a week. Wall street has nothing on these women, who would gladly run you over rather than admit they, too, were dog-ass tired and had run out of clean laundry a week ago.

Don’t get me wrong, I have had many friends over the years. But it all comes down to this, time and again… I am not quite good enough; if I worked just a little harder, or pray more, or choose private school, or have more kids, or get my graduate degree… try the new floor cleaner, bleach the whites, buy fair trade. Don’t ask for help, ask for what you want, no, ask for what you need, don’t know what you need ? That’s ok, just ask Susie, she’ll let you know, and don’t forget to put a 4 course meal on the table every night at 6pm. Holy shit, I did not feel this much pressure when doing search and rescue out at sea ! Think about that statement for a moment… rescuing Haitians, dressing bullet wounds, trying desperately to find one person who survived the fire or crash… this was easier mentally on me than the life I lead now. This is my child, her life, her future that we are juggling so carefully in our hands, and god help us if we slip…

One woman I know gets drunk every evening, and lets her kids play with the dog instead of teaching maths. Someone else caught her hubby cheating 3 times (WTF??!!!) and now has a generous allowance and gets her hair done every week at the salon, while he makes dinner for the boys. Another mom needed to feel “grounded” and takes prozac, while somebody just takes her daughters’ ADHD meds, and brags about all the energy she has now.

Is this what we have become, ladies ?! I know there are a million happy and nice women out there, and I wonder where you all are. Like Superman, I THINK you are there, hope the myth is true, but have not seen you with my own eyes. Everyone I know is a little broken, perhaps overweight, or grumpy from the declining hormones. Maybe she has a temper, or drinks a bit too much at Thanksgiving. Fights with her partner or her parents, grounds the kids, goes 3 weeks without shaving her legs. She might have kids who sneak online to Facebook instead of doing the dishes, or they might lie, or never put away their clean clothes. You know, people with faults. People who are imperfect, and do not try to hide the fact. The kind of people we ALL are, if we would just get off the god-damned high horse and admit it, embrace it, live it…

I wonder now how many other moms out there secretly feel like me, but have been conditioned to think that it is all our heads. I wonder what my life as a parent would be like, had I been able to befriend one of these unicorn ladies who know what is real, what is not, and how unimportant it all is in the end.

I wonder if the things I type here are enough of a representation of our days for you to get a glimpse of me and us, or if our life seems too shiny and bright to be true ? I cannot possibly tell all our struggles, nor would it be appropriate to do so. I only hope that you can feel my intentions, the veracity I put upon the page, and not think for one second, that I am someone who has it all together. I am a flawed mom; one hot mess, and I love my daughter with all my heart. I am a daughter myself, short tempered and loyal to a fault. A sister, fierce and loving, always there, but never close enough. I am a wife, who is redefining the word, and a friend; funny and quick. In short, I am like YOU, like us all. I hope I never make you feel less than the perfectly awesome person you are.

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