Monday, October 11, 2010
Accept yourself as you are!
As moms, we tend to be so hard on ourselves. We usually don't expect other moms to be perfect, but for some insane reason, we want our lives to be so different from theirs. Maybe it's that we occasionally see the "perfect mom" (as if she's really out there) and we compare ourselves unfairly to her skin, to her paycheck, to her car, to her house, or to her family.
It's as if we're reverting to elementary school. Remember the days when you thought, "Oh if only I had that cool Atari game that so-and-so has?" Or, maybe you pined for Barbie's Dream-house or the entire set of Cabbage Patch dolls. I'm sure as a kid, you realized that you were actually happy without that next acquisition. But somehow as an adult, you linger for too long inside of that grave misconception.
At least, that's how I feel about myself sometimes. It's as if the commercials we see, the internet adds, and the billboards that follow us from one destination to the next all point to one depressing message: "You are not good enough unless you buy this or change that..." So, I'm here to remind you that you are fine just the way you are.
Recently, I hosted a birthday tea party for twelve ballerina fairies. I did my best to prepare the house the way I wanted it. The yard looked pretty good, except for those three things I just couldn't get done. The house looked nice but I wasn't able to clean it as well as I'd hoped. I put up most of the decorations I'd bought, but couldn't find time to put up the fuchsia pink streamers.
You see, the morning of the party, my middle kid snuggled into our bed at 5am asking me if I'd be at her t-ball game that morning. I told her I would have to skip it because I had to clean and decorate the house for the party. Thankfully, a few hours later, when we "officially" greeted the new day, I totally changed my mind about the whole thing.
I asked myself which I'd rather do: look like a Mrs. Cleaver perfect mom in front of my friends and relatives or support my daughter by cheering her on from the stands. Those additional two hours of sleep helped to clarify the matter; the choice was clear. I was going to the game.
I cheered like a psycho who was trying to develop laryngitis in one short hour. I hugged her. I put two Sesame Street band-aids on her elbow after she ate it while playing catcher. I told her the game wasn't official until there was blood. And I mingled with some other fans instead of mopping my kitchen floor. Instead of cleaning my downstairs bathroom. Instead of Windexing my sliding glass doors. Instead of sweeping my front porch.
My conclusion is twofold. I'm glad I made the choice that I did. But somehow, I'm still feeling self-conscious about what the other moms thought of me even though it's three days later. And I'm wondering why I care so much about what someone might have thought about my less than perfectly clean house. I'm also trying to convince myself that my true friends wouldn't judge me for how my house looked anyways.
The other thing about true friends is that as long as you serve them tasty food, they could care less about what your house looks like. So, that's what I did. I served hot dogs in a blanket, blue cheese and cranberry salad, broccoli and mushroom quiches, fresh strawberries and purple grapes, a plethora of cheeses and salami, heart-shaped cookies, lots of chocolate, and twelve different types of hot teas, along with apple juice for the kids.
So, if you are at a place where you are trying to be Mrs. Perfect by showing everyone how great you are, take a few days off. Instead of trying to look like "her" and act like "her" and drive what "she" drives, try to accept yourself for who you are; take a look at your own feet and try to enjoy the ones that God gave you. Take a deep breath and let go of the fabricated ideals that weigh you down.
I hope when others see me being real... they can relax and be themselves back to me as well. My make-up won't ever look like the magazines. My house will never have all the toys put away or all the frames dusted to perfection. Even after I sweep and mop, the kids seem to spill four cups of apple juice within two minutes anyways. My bathrooms refuse to stay clean even after using half of a container of Tilex. And my sweet Labrador sheds like she's trying to stuff a large pillow.
Here's the main challenge: enjoy who you are. And even though it's not easy for me, I'm trying to get better at it. I don't want to strive to be someone that I'm not. I want to be joyful for who I am now. I think getting a house-cleaner, a chauffeur, a cook, and a pet-groomer might help remove some of the pressure as well. But, for now, I'm gonna have to accept a more reasonable set of standards, so I can find peace with myself in the present.
Share your thoughts about what makes you comfortable in your own shoes. We'd love to hear from you. :)
It's as if we're reverting to elementary school. Remember the days when you thought, "Oh if only I had that cool Atari game that so-and-so has?" Or, maybe you pined for Barbie's Dream-house or the entire set of Cabbage Patch dolls. I'm sure as a kid, you realized that you were actually happy without that next acquisition. But somehow as an adult, you linger for too long inside of that grave misconception.
At least, that's how I feel about myself sometimes. It's as if the commercials we see, the internet adds, and the billboards that follow us from one destination to the next all point to one depressing message: "You are not good enough unless you buy this or change that..." So, I'm here to remind you that you are fine just the way you are.
Recently, I hosted a birthday tea party for twelve ballerina fairies. I did my best to prepare the house the way I wanted it. The yard looked pretty good, except for those three things I just couldn't get done. The house looked nice but I wasn't able to clean it as well as I'd hoped. I put up most of the decorations I'd bought, but couldn't find time to put up the fuchsia pink streamers.
You see, the morning of the party, my middle kid snuggled into our bed at 5am asking me if I'd be at her t-ball game that morning. I told her I would have to skip it because I had to clean and decorate the house for the party. Thankfully, a few hours later, when we "officially" greeted the new day, I totally changed my mind about the whole thing.
I asked myself which I'd rather do: look like a Mrs. Cleaver perfect mom in front of my friends and relatives or support my daughter by cheering her on from the stands. Those additional two hours of sleep helped to clarify the matter; the choice was clear. I was going to the game.
I cheered like a psycho who was trying to develop laryngitis in one short hour. I hugged her. I put two Sesame Street band-aids on her elbow after she ate it while playing catcher. I told her the game wasn't official until there was blood. And I mingled with some other fans instead of mopping my kitchen floor. Instead of cleaning my downstairs bathroom. Instead of Windexing my sliding glass doors. Instead of sweeping my front porch.
My conclusion is twofold. I'm glad I made the choice that I did. But somehow, I'm still feeling self-conscious about what the other moms thought of me even though it's three days later. And I'm wondering why I care so much about what someone might have thought about my less than perfectly clean house. I'm also trying to convince myself that my true friends wouldn't judge me for how my house looked anyways.
The other thing about true friends is that as long as you serve them tasty food, they could care less about what your house looks like. So, that's what I did. I served hot dogs in a blanket, blue cheese and cranberry salad, broccoli and mushroom quiches, fresh strawberries and purple grapes, a plethora of cheeses and salami, heart-shaped cookies, lots of chocolate, and twelve different types of hot teas, along with apple juice for the kids.
So, if you are at a place where you are trying to be Mrs. Perfect by showing everyone how great you are, take a few days off. Instead of trying to look like "her" and act like "her" and drive what "she" drives, try to accept yourself for who you are; take a look at your own feet and try to enjoy the ones that God gave you. Take a deep breath and let go of the fabricated ideals that weigh you down.
I hope when others see me being real... they can relax and be themselves back to me as well. My make-up won't ever look like the magazines. My house will never have all the toys put away or all the frames dusted to perfection. Even after I sweep and mop, the kids seem to spill four cups of apple juice within two minutes anyways. My bathrooms refuse to stay clean even after using half of a container of Tilex. And my sweet Labrador sheds like she's trying to stuff a large pillow.
Here's the main challenge: enjoy who you are. And even though it's not easy for me, I'm trying to get better at it. I don't want to strive to be someone that I'm not. I want to be joyful for who I am now. I think getting a house-cleaner, a chauffeur, a cook, and a pet-groomer might help remove some of the pressure as well. But, for now, I'm gonna have to accept a more reasonable set of standards, so I can find peace with myself in the present.
Share your thoughts about what makes you comfortable in your own shoes. We'd love to hear from you. :)
Labels: acceptance, friendship, moms, parenthood
