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| Real house. Real mess. This my real life 90% of the time. Ok, so it's 99.9%. Whateves. |
I had no desire or motivation to clean that house. Why? Why bother, when as I'm picking up the last of the stuffed friends, they will bring out ponies, or miniature squinkies. Why, when they will just bring out more books or paper dolls? Why bother?
Well, because the "good" mother inside me is telling me to get up off my ass and do something productive. Since, getting two kids dressed, one off to preschool on time or close to it, and then making breakfast, lunch, soon to be dinner, and grocery shopping, is not something productive. Having a clean house, and spotless floors is productive. Having hung and folded laundry is productive. But diaper changing, hair in pigtails, and clean faces isn't.
By who's standard? Well, my inner "perfect" mother, but also most likely my neighbor. Or that perfectly polished mom at preschool who looks runway ready at 7:45. Do they really hold a standard? Is there a standard? Sure there is, because I would die, if you wanted to use my bathroom in my bedroom. And it's actually clean right now, save for that pile of towels.
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| Bagels, cream cheese, sprinkles. When you just want your kid to eat something besides Oreos for breakfast. |
So where do these expectations come from? Leave it to Beaver was 50 plus years ago. June Cleaver is dead, well the idea of her. I grew up with Roseanne. Now that's a model I can aspire too. Meals from boxes, kids watching mind rotting TV, the couch covered with an afgan. Then something happened, we cleaned up, someone invented Pinterest to make us feel more inferior, and our houses are supposed to look like a pottery barn catalog.
In case you are wondering, mine does not. Even on a good day.
So how do we get over this? How do we feel good about our homes, and our marriages, and our motherhoods? How do we believe that we are the mothers we are supposed to be?
We check our out of date expectations at the door.
Our expectations of motherhood were created as young girls. Our expectation of motherhood was sealed the day we got our first baby doll. The one that's eyes closed when we laid them down. The doll that came with the bottles that were already filled, and were emptied with the tip of a hand. They had perfectly starched dresses, white turned down socks, and mary janes. They were perfect babies, and we were perfect mommies. And our expectation of perfection was confirmed.
So here we are, women, with our real babies. And their eyes certainly do not close when we lay them down. The milk in the bottles donesn't magically appear when you tip it right side up. The starched clothes are now covered in baby puke or poop. And we have instantly failed our expectations. Now we are failures at motherhood.
However, our expectations were under perfect circumstances. Anyone can be a perfect mom given perfect circumstances. Real life isn't perfect. It's messy and loud. Didn't our baby dolls sleep through the night. Didn't we decide we were going to marry prince charming. See what I mean. Take out those perfect circumstances and we have failed. A sleepless, napless baby will not deliver our mothering happiness like we thought. We don't all get to marry prince charming, no matter how fabulous our husbands are. We don't get woodland creature friends or a french speaking candelabra to do our house work.
So we are left feeling miserable and tired. Because it's not what we thought it would be or what we thought we wanted. It's messy and loud and regretably not perfect.
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| My fairy Godmother would die! Cake mix cookies on a time crunch. Preschoolers can't tell DIY from bakery anyway! |
I feel we have to let those expectations go. We have to set new expectations. Expectations that are realistic and attainable. Like a fruit or vegetable at every meal, even if it was frozen, and is served with a side of Mac and Cheese. Like my five year old sleeping the first half of the night in her bed, and the second in ours. To expect that happy kids, with a semi-put together mom, watching Nick Jr is better that a clean house on a random Tuesday. Those kinds of expectations. They require no prince charming, no perfectly plastic babies, or woodland creatures to pick up toys and sew pearls on my gown. You get what I mean right?
And sometimes it requires us to "mourn" the mommy life we thought we were going to have, and start enjoying the mommy life we have now. The one we are living. With dirty hair instead of ball gowns, fast food dinners instead of gourmet, and kids that require more time outs than the Superbowl.
Because motherhood isn't about perfection.... It's about consistency and love.
Which requires no Fairy Godmother. Just Starbucks and a good eyecream.
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