03 Jun This post has little to do with the pictures.
In my last post I made the observation that “I don’t know how anybody handles more than two children” but said that was a post for another day. I’ve been mulling over it ever since and now it is another day, so I’ll just dive right in.I can get myself very worked up–into a pitch black pit of inferiority. (I have to give a shout out to Dr. Dobson’s Preparing for Adolescence because I’m sure that’s where I got the term “pit of inferiority”.) Before I had children, I was a closet Bree VanDeKamp/Hodge wannabe. I attempted to keep the house spotlessly neat and clean basically all the time–in fits and starts. There were times when I would let things go a bit, but most of the time I was a perfectionist when it came to the house. I worried over statements I heard, such as, “A clean house is a sign of a dull woman.” I agreed in the times when the house was messy, but most of the time I hoped the ubiquitous “they” were wrong. I realize that my perspective may be skewed. Things are often perfect, or at least better, when you look back on them. So maybe the house wasn’t as clean then as I like to think. And absolutely, without a doubt, every time you ask me, I will take the current chaos over my idealized notion of the pristine environment we used to have. But that’s not what this post is about.
Yet . . . I still had a nagging feeling that there must be something wrong with me. Other people seem to manage just fine. While I was walking with the kids that afternoon, it suddenly became very clear to me. I believe it was God trying to get through, saying something to this effect. “Stop comparing yourself to other mothers, Alison. I created you to be you. You have two children right now, not three or four, and I will equip you to be the mom they need. You don’t have to keep your house clean. You don’t have to cook a gourmet meal tonight. All you have to do is love on your kids.” Did you ever have one of those moments where something suddenly seems so obvious? No offense at all to her because I actually love her, but I am not MckMama. Who cares? Actually, even if you do care and you think I should be able to give more than I do, I don’t care. If Adrian eats more Earth’s Best Baby Food jars than Camilla did, it’s because I would rather be sane and cuddle him. I’ll make his baby food from scratch as much as I can because I like to, but I’m not going to drive myself crazy over it. And I’m not going to take on anything else I don’t need to. I’ll do what I can while being a good mama. Maybe you can do more. Maybe you can’t. It doesn’t make you or me a better person. We’re all broken anyway. Why do I so easily forget, trying to live up to a manmade standard of perfection? Maybe I’ll have to read my own blog from time to time to remind myself. Everybody should, because it’s awesome.