Falling Short of Supermom.
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I remember the first time someone said I was a perfectionist.
I scoffed. Me, a perfectionist? That just wasn’t possible. Did they see my house? I was in a constant state of chaos — always moving, always working harder to cover up my tracks of complete failure.
People that were perfectionists were not like me. They walked around dressed in nice clothes, had their hair neatly done and didn’t forget to bring a present to birthday parties.
No matter how hard I worked at it, I inevitably missed the mark. And it was this constant missing, the constant drive to not miss, that exposed what was true.
It seems I have always pushed the boundaries to what I can and can’t do, and parenting has been no different. The need to strive, to push, to rise, dictates every decision, every act — until I find myself falling short of a bar that was set way above human capabilities.
On nights when everyone is lying peacefully in their beds, I stare at the ceiling in the darkness and wonder what things would be like if I really had it all together.
What would it be like to be a supermom? To be the mother who can take all that is thrown at her and still be standing after the dust settles? To stand strong in the face of chaos with a smile on her face, shoulders thrown back and head held high?
Does being this — pushing for this — mean fitting some kind of mold? Pressing all of the uneven edges firmly into place and tucking away the frayed bits?
Could it be mirroring those that seem to go above and beyond with ease and beautifully crafted birthday cakes and HGTV-designed living rooms? What is it that makes us feel if we did one more thing, we would finally get it right?
Whatever is at the heart of it, whatever drives the need to prove oneself, the crash after leaping to that next step up can come fast and hard leaving you face-planted into the ground.
Yet here I am again on the merry-go-round. And here I am again trying not to fall off all the while looking as though I have no fear.
I got this.
But even superheroes have their weaknesses.
Don’t cry — it shows you are too sensitive.
Don’t be late — it shows you have no order.
Don’t trip — it shows you are not paying attention.
Don’t forget — it shows you you weren’t listening.
Don’t admit you do not know the answer — it shows you are uneducated.
But what if, just for once we admitted it all? What if we — the supermom wannabes, the perfectionists, the ones that fall short every single day — banded together and set a call for action?
Stop pushing. Stop trying to be what we cannot be.
Break the mold.
Maybe it’s time to recognize that even the superheroes can mess up. That even on our worst days we did something and that tomorrow is another day.
These words are easy to say and easy to type, but in quiet moments of reflection, the perfectionist in me unmasks this facade. Replaying the tape reel of every mistake and fault, it throws back these ideals that average is enough.
You will never be enough, it taunts.
And so forever in motion, in a constant state of chaos, I have found my work. I have found what it is that I really need to push for when things get hard. That place somewhere between reaching toward that distant star while allowing the uneven edges to show.
That place where it is okay when I fall short of being supermom.
“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than boring.” ~ Marilyn Monroe
*****
{Perfectly Imperfect}
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