I’m reading a book right now. Yeah, I do still read every now and then 🙂 Not nearly as much as I used to. I just have a really hard time finding stuff to read that interests me.
I picked up a book yesterday, Red River. It’s by the same author who wrote Cane River, Lalita Tademy. I LOVED Cane River. It was a semi-fictionalized account of the Tademy from slavery to freedom. It was incredible. I just started Red River, but it’s already hooking me.
I was reading last night while Keith and Ian watched a scary movie. For someone who used to watch every scary movie that came out when I was a teen, I’m sure a wimp now. I can’t even read a scary book anymore. Jeesh.
Anyway, I digress yet again. The book is set in the 1800’s, and the opening scene is the woman getting up an hour earlier than the man to cook breakfast and get the household going before he got up to work the farm.
I thought of how times have changed. Even since my grandparent’s time. I can remember staying the night with my grandma and grandpa and she’d get up and cook him breakfast and he’d get up when it was ready. Of course, by then he was retired so he would have his breakfast then go visit with his buddies.
My other set of grandparents were not that different. My Grandma still gets up and cooks breakfast and they work the cows and all that farm stuff.
Two generations later, I’m barely making it out of the door in time to go to work. Breakfast? What’s that? That’s that meal I sometimes cook on Saturdays or Sundays.
My mom is an awesome mom. She had and still has dinner on the table at a certain time a good majority of the time. Dad walks in at around four-four thirty and comes to the dinner table. It’s ready and waiting.
I tried to fit this mold that I grew up with. Trying to keep the house spotless and a home cooked dinner on the table. What did I get?
Frustration and disappointment. Feeling that I couldn’t be a Supermom because I couldn’t cook every night, or couldn’t get the house spotless all the time.
Single mom here.
I’ve had to make a conscious effort to teach myself to cut myself some slack. So what if dinner is from a box? There’s food on the table, isn’t there? So what if the house isn’t spotless? There’s a roof over our heads, that I bought myself by the way.
It’s impossible to do two roles perfectly all the time. To be the breadwinner and the care-taker.I think that like me, a lot of women get upset with themselves because we put too much pressure on ourselves to be perfect; the perfect wife, the perfect mom, the perfect professional, the perfect friend. And we can’t. Number one we can’t be perfect. Number two we can’t possibly be everything to everybody. Something will suffer in the process.
It’s about balance. That’s another lesson I’ve had to learn. I can’t go out every night and still do a decent job in my career. But I can’t put in 50 hours of work each week and expect to have any kind of life, socially or with my family. But, I can go out a couple nights a week, cook dinner and clean house a few nights a week, and grade papers or make parent phone calls a couple nights.
Something I’ve never been very good at.
Does that make me a Supermom?
I don’t know.
Sometimes I think that in my next life I’d like to be a housewife. I’d like to get up, cook breakfast, get the kids off to school, clean the house, all that good stuff. And then sometimes, I think that I would go insane.
Who would I talk to?
I don’t know. My life is what it is and to be honest, I quite like it. No use wondering what might have been or what might happen.
And if I can get dinner on the table a few nights a week, and keep the cops from breaking down my door after mistaking my house for a crack house, I think I’ve done a pretty good job.
Maybe I’m not a Supermom, maybe I’m just a mom doing the best I can. 🙂 And maybe that’s what we’re all doing.
For now, I’m off to have some breakfast.
Here’s to all the Supermoms out there. All of the moms doing the best they can.