There are two women in my head. The first woman is amazing. She is always dressed nicely, her skin is perfect and her hair is glossy. This woman is always on time, she RSVPs and writes thank you cards. She parents with a firm but gentle hand, never raises her voice to her children, and teaches them to be kind by example. Her house is always spotless, her garden weed free and her bed is always made. She has dinner on the table when her husband gets home with a smile on her face. I am not this woman.
The second woman is a mess. She sometimes wears her pajamas for days, she can’t remember the last time she washed her hair, and she still has acne (which she was promised would be gone by her 30s.) She is constantly running late, she always realizes she forgot something half-way to town, and she can’t remember anything she learned in college. Her kids drive her crazy, she gets upset about the smallest things, and feels guilty constantly that she was to harsh with them. Her house is a mess, she has a talent for killing plants and is terrible at folding laundry. When her husband gets home she is exhausted and on the verge of tears. I am definitely this woman.
When thinking logically, I know the first woman doesn’t exist. Unfortunately I am not very logical, in fact I am highly emotional. And no matter how often I tell myself that I will never be the first woman, I still hold myself to that standard, and so I am often disappointed. I am not saying that I am a big weepy mess all the time, but there are definitely days when I feel totally crazy. Every day there are times when I feel like a bad mother and think my kids must agree. Today was one of those days.
Although we started out happy and on time, we quickly spiraled to screaming in the car and late for school. In the middle of Tessie in time-out on a chair in front of the school and Christian screaming at me and dragging his feet in his walker I wondered, Where did I go wrong? At what point did I let a small detail ruin my morning? This was the moment when I was sure all the other “First Woman” moms in the parking lot were looking at me and thinking Who this crazy lady was and why doesn’t anyone save those poor children.
After finally getting both kids dropped off, once again pretending to be angels for their teachers, I headed home to clean. I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt and had a hard time focusing on anything. So of course when I left to pick the kids back up the house was still a mess. On my way to get the kids I stopped at a friend’s house to drop off some jam I made her. This was the highlight of my day so far.
My beautiful moment today took place in my friend’s kitchen. She was still in her pajamas and I was coming apart at the seams. She gave me the “Iv’e been there” hug I was needing and I immediately felt better. I’m not talking about an epiphany and by no means did I suddenly think my life was rosy. I’m talking about realizing that someone else feels exactly the same way as you do. I remembered that I know a lot of these Second Women. We are all on the same team. And although it sometimes feels like us vs. them, we all love our children. I know that I will probably never give up the First Woman in my head. As foolish as it is, I still strive for perfection, whatever that means. But I will also strive for these beautiful moments of camaraderie in a girlfriend’s kitchen, because heaven knows we need them.
No comments:
Post a Comment