On why I hate the term "Supermom" and love Gilbert Blythe

Many of you who know me in real life know that my husband and I had some trouble getting pregnant.  In fact if you hunt around my blogger profile you will find an entire blog dedicated to that topic.  All in all it took around 2 years to conceive our twins.  In the infertility world, that is not all that long, but for me personally, it felt like a mini lifetime.  During that time, I would often daydream about being a mother.  My daydreams were fairly idyllic, to say the least.  There were lots of dreams of time spent frolicking in the meadows and woodlands. while kind-hearted foxes and raccoons wistfully smiled at the beauty of my children and I twirling about in dresses and petticoats (yes, yes, this is hyperbolic, I'm not that weird).  You know, Anne of Green Gables kind of stuff.  Real motherhood has proved to be quite different.  I am no Anne with an E.  And I rarely meet up with magical woodland creatures whilst sober.  And I am almost always sober.

 Most days, I laugh almost as much as my giggly toddlers and enjoy most of our time together.  But then Clara keeps me up a few nights in a row and some hearty exhaustion sets in.  On those days I find it harder to be patient when my twins "help" me with dishes by dumping entire cups of water on the floor, or when I change 6 poopy diapers in one hour (only happened once, but it was epic). 

 

And I don't know about you, but I find very few truly honest spaces on the Internet when it comes to motherhood.  I can't be the only person who has days when I yell at my kids and let them watch an hour of cartoons while I read a book and attempt to hold onto my sanity.  But then I log onto Pinterest and apparently every other mother out there is doing amazing activities with their kids ALL DAY LONG. 

And I feel like a failure.   Because sometimes I snatch instead of gently taking.  Sometimes I log onto Facebook when I should be reading books with my girls.  And sometimes I am jealous of people who have just one baby to look after. So just in case you have ever read my Facebook posts or this blog and thought that I am a "supermom" (I HATE that term), the truest of truths is that I am not. 

When I was pregnant with Clara, I read Simplicity Parenting by Kim John Payne.  I am already a very Attachment Parenting-Montessori-Waldorfy influenced parent, so this book jived with my general hybrid of parenting philosophies.  Keep it simple.  It is okay for kids to be bored sometimes.  Simple toys.  Daily and weekly rhythms/routines.  Time in nature.  Limited TV time.  To sum it up:  Do your best and that is enough.  I seriously need to tattoo this upside down on my boobs, to remind myself of this truth when I am nursing.  Supermom is an unhealthy myth.  I cannot do everything perfectly for my kids.  Impossible.  All that I can do is my whole-hearted best and then be at peace with myself.  And trust that all the beautiful moments will overpower the yucky ones and my children will FEEL the magic of woodland raccoons and foxes smiling at them (in a non-rabies-infected kind of way) throughout their lives. 

 

Because you know what?  When Anne Shirley (you know, of Anne of Green Gables lore) had kids in the later books, she had hired help.  What??!!  Yep.  Read Anne of Ingleside and Rainbow Valley and you will see.  Plus she had dreamy Gilbert to hump and bump with at night.... but I digress.  ;)

Bottom line here is that I am going to re-read Simplicity Parenting and be generous with myself this week.  I love my kids to pieces.  They are my 3 little miracles (as all children are) and I do my very best to mother them with gentleness and just a hint of razzle-dazzle.  But sometimes the razzle is not dazzling and that is okay.  Tomorrow I will do better.  And maybe some of you who read this blog feel this way too sometimes.  Maybe you also want to kill the term "Supermom" and then go out and have a beer, while the hired help watches the children, obviously.  I am looking for more real.  More honesty.  Motherhood is hard enough without trying to pretend that I am perfect.

Off topic really, but this is one of the things I sewed this week. 

Her name is Lucy Goosey and you can find the tutorial here to make her.  She is adorable and imperfect.  I am tempted to keep her for our home because she is so joyful!  But I am hoping she will be a gift for a certain friend just beginning the IVF journey, so I will hold onto her for a couple of months as we wait and see and hope.

 Because holy hell, motherhood is worth all of the self-doubt and exhaustion.  It is worth it when I hear my toddlers whisper "mama mama" to each other back and forth in their cribs as they fall asleep most nights. 

Oh, and if you have never read Anne of Green Gables and this post makes no sense at all to you, go read the book!  And read Simplicity Parenting while you are at it.  And then go hump and bump with your own Gilbert if you are lucky enough to have one, for heavens sake.  On that note, I better scurry off.... winkety wink.  My own "Gilbert" is pretty dreamy.