On Record, Off Pinterest

You know how people claim to hate social media because they hate seeing all the perfect people posting their perfect lives and it upsets them because either they know it isn't true or they compare themselves and come up short? (I get irritated when people post so much negative it makes me want to block them from my news feed, but that's a topic for another day.)

Well, mommies be scrolling through Facebook to 'connect' or flipping through Pinterest thinking they'll be inspired only to find themselves giving up, popping the top off a carton of Ben and Jerry's and starting an all night binge of Parenthood or Law and Order. Oh, wait, maybe that's just me. Anyway, the pressure is enormous. We can't just be good moms anymore, we have to be fit and healthy, fun and funny, perfectly styled, perfectly organized, always ready for a photo shoot or impromptu dinner guests serving the healthiest foods of course. These days it's easy to feel like you have to be June Cleaver mixed with Martha Stewart plus a little Ellen Degeneres and Beyoncé to round out the edges.

I had surgery over the Summer, and it was a little surprising to me how many of my friends saw me as a super mom. There was real concern that my children might starve or turn into vagabonds roaming the streets searching for someone to care for them. I might be exaggerating, just a little, but I heard it from more than one friend insisting that they bring us food and help in some way. My poor children suffering without their perfect mom being perfect. (Awesome people, too bad I'm super crappy at accepting help.) During all that I decided I must be WAY better at hiding the crazy than I thought. So, that's a plus. Go me!

Anyway, there actually was a time in my life when I tried insanely hard to be crafty and creative in a fun mom sorta way. I have spent countless hours and many sleepless nights in the kitchen cranking out allergy safe food and fun healthy treats for each of my kids' class functions (mostly Jackson). I got really good at scratch cooking inadvertently ruining my appetite for many store bought and even restaurant made food. My kids will quote me, "this is good, but mine's better." I can make my own fondant from scratch, and then mold it into things like fish and mermaids, and it doesn't taste like cardboard paste. Seriously. I can make killer cinnamon rolls, fresh breads, even bagels, and according to my kids, I make better nuggets than Chick Fil A. On top of that, I can paint portraits and mold clay into tigers complete with realistic fur. Plus write awesome blog posts that only people who know me read. Clearly, the ability is there, but the time and desire no longer exist.

The time is gone because we're overscheduled. I have 3 talented, smart kids and a need for everything to be fair. That probably comes from being the middle child. So, they are all three very involved in several different activities. I love it for them, but it stretches mommy pretty thin.

The desire isn't there because I know what makes my kids think I'm the best mom ever, and it's not found on Pinterest. Well, that and the fact that when I do have free time, I'd rather be running or reading or sleeping. Sleeping is my favorite!

The point is, I'm ok NOT being super mom, well at least the version of super mom I see floating around the Internet these days, but I think my desire to stay mostly positive might paint a different picture of my life.

Most of what I do is not Pinterest worthy. And, even the stuff I post is edited. I think it's just the polite thing to do. You do NOT wanna see selfies from my bedroom with the hashtag #wokeuplikethis, nor do you want to see carefully filtered pics of the empty takeout containers cluttering the table on the all too often night I was too busy to bother with dinner. I don't think anyone wants to hear me complain or rant or post unkempt photos. At least not as often as they happen in real life. Right? How 'bout an amen from all my moms who understand the behind the scenes is very different from the highlight reel.

See this picture?

Fat, funny looking little things

This is the Pinterest image of the snack I was supposed to bring to school for my daughter's special snack day. All the moms have to do a few each year, and there is a calendar with instructions in our parent binders from the school. It's Kindergarten, and apparently the transition from preschool to grade school requires special treats on Fridays. This is my third time through this, and the magic has faded. Especially since I made an allergy safe version of EVERY one of these treats EVERY Friday the entire school year for my last kindergartner. I'm special treated out, but because she's precious and I don't like being the mom that drops the ball, well at least not on purpose, I planned to suck it up and get it done.

To start things off, we lost the binder. The parent binder her teacher gave out to every parent with all the special instructions for the class that had printed on the cover, "please return at the end of the year." Yeah, that binder. I had to ask other moms in the class to post a pic of this week's snack so I knew what to do. Fortunately I was able to find the same snack on Pinterest for further instructions (hence the pic above).

Did I mention I hate Rice Krispie treats? Well, at least the ones made with store bought marshmallows. I make my own, of course, but there was no time for that. Can you hear it, "these are good, but mine are better." Yeah, as I was saying...

All the kids are in bed, my husband is settled on the couch and I set to work creating these little monsters, uh I mean darlings. I can melt butter and marshmallows and mix in the Rice Krispies, among other culinary feats I consider impressive since I'm not a chef, but apparently I can't mold this sticky mess into snow men.

The racket from the kitchen drew my husband in. I would imagine like a train wreck, you just have to look. Amid my complaining, "Why couldn't it be cupcakes? I can handle cupcakes....I hate store bought marshmallows....My hands are covered in butter. Why is it still sticking to my hands?....They might end up with Rice Krispie bars with snowmen faces drawn on. That I can do. I can sculpt animals from clay, but I can't make a decent ball out of stupid Rice Krispies."

I don't really remember what he said, but I do remember how effortlessly he picked up a glob and rolled it into a ball. The ultimate "I can do anything you can do better" taunt. Only he didn't taunt me. He jumped in and started rolling more balls amid my complaining that he still wasn't doing it right and that I had already decided on a plan B. Pretty much how I handle unwanted assistance across the board. He showed me how, and I started rolling, too, very irritated by the fact that my left brained, math/science minded husband was showing me up. Pretty soon we had 11 little snow men (one for each kid, the teacher and her assistant) but no icing to stick on all the candy embellishments. "Icing wasn't on the list of ingredients. I have to have some in the pantry somewhere!" Yeah, if I hadn't abandoned my kitchen exploration for baseball and ballet. All the icing tubes were rock hard and expired. I suppose we should have rolled faster and used the still sticky marshmallow goo to adhere all the pieces. Whatever.

So, while I was busy washing uniforms and packing back packs, he went to the store to get some icing to use for glue. It was nearly midnight, and he was ready for bed not midnight shopping at Walmart. Of course, he probably could have gone just like he was and no one would have noticed, or someone would have noticed, snapped a pic and immortalized him on the 'People of Walmart' page. Anyway, he returns and starts shaping scarves out of fruit roll ups.

I started 'gluing' on chocolate chip eyes, and jelly bean hats. He even complimented me on how the white icing looked surrounding the candy buttons.

We're gonna pause right here to interject the fact that this man has pushed me to the worst moments of my life. I have contemplated, even filed for divorce (didn't follow through, obviously) and considered murdering him in his sleep on more than one occasion, but at this moment, calmly (I HATE how he can stay calm when I'm falling apart) and carefully helping me, I remembered why I married him.

This is how they turned out.

I think they kinda look like little evil clowns,
but you know, I like hating on Rice Krispie snowmen lately.

Certainly not perfect, but close enough. Not one single snowman made it home. They were each completely and, according to my daughter, happily devoured. Mission accomplished. And, if I had just posted like usual, I would have posted the pic without all the back story and let you think I'm a Pinterest genious, or at least a fun mom with some crafty good skills and a hubby who helped, IF I was feeling generous enough to include him.

I looked at our creations, snapped a pic, and then panicked, "Oh, great, I haven't planned out an outfit for me. What am I gonna wear? I can't go in running clothes. Can I?" To which my husband replied in my favorite quote to date, "How 'bout some yoga pants or leggings?" (Inside joke, #butyouwanttotalkaboutleggings.) Then after a good laugh and shamefully without a thank you from me, he quietly retired leaving me to transfer my irrational panic onto what I would use to cover my body. Don't worry, I came to my senses and thanked him the next day. ;-)

So, please keep posting your adorable kid shots in the one spot of your house that doesn't look like a tornado hit it, and your gorgeous selfies that make me jealous because I'm so very awkward with those. I keep trying though; I'm gonna get it figured out. Please keep posting all your accomplishments. I really do want to see your adorable cupcakes and yummy dinners. The European vacations your husband surprised you with, and your girls night out shots that make me miss college. I know it's not like that always. I have plenty to edit out of my film reel, too, but the highlights, they're fun and inspiring. I like them.

Of course, I like real and honest, too. Just don't dis on yourself too bad. You're so great the way you are, every wrinkle and gray hair, every yelling fit that could easily be aired on Jerry Springer. God sees it all and loves you anyway; so, I can, too. And, when you scroll through Pinterest or Facebook and start feeling like you must be the most boring untalented person on the planet, remember the best things in life aren't found on Pinterest.

Naked in Public

I'm in the gym of one of my kids' schools working a table at open house with several other moms. This open house isn't like the usual ones at the beginning of the year. It's busier, and there's food and tables and lots of parents and kids eating and talking. It's more like the Thanksgiving feast than the beginning of the year open house, except everyone is in shorts and flip flops. Well, everyone but me, that is. Handing out some pertinent information on a sheet of paper I hadn't read, I look down and notice, I'm not wearing any clothes. Buck naked in the gym of a Christian, homeschool hybrid academy, I panic and run to the restroom, somehow scoring an outfit. I return to my post, only, I'm naked again. This happens several times before I wake very thankful it was only a dream.

It's probably 3am. I don't know because the clock numbers are too small and too far away for me to see them from my bed, and I don't want to check my phone. I'm just guessing since that's my usual 'wake up and have trouble going back to sleep' time. I lay there for a minute and wonder what it meant.

I've heard that dreaming you're naked in public means you don't feel like you know what you're doing, and you're afraid everyone is going to find out. Or, you're hiding something and fear what would happen if everyone knew. Afraid of being exposed = being naked in public. Makes sense, right?

I am now the mother of three elementary school age children. No more babies in this house. I don't know that I really miss those harried, messy days. (I know. What mother actually says that out loud? Answer: this one.) However, I do think they came more naturally to me than the stage we're in right now. All you have to do for a two year old is feed him, change him, snuggle him, and keep him busy. Basically, just keep him alive and smiling. Mommy is always the hero even when there is a wet diaper hanging from the ceiling fan and they've lost their toy soldier in the toilet. Of course, you might make them mad when you enforce boundaries, but they get over it pretty quick and go back to thinking you hung the moon. And, they sleep! A lot. So, that's awesome!

Older kids, though. See, they have projects and papers that make you miss the fat crayon coloring pages and magnetic letters on the fridge. They have their own opinions, and tend to voice them with an attitude that makes you wonder if you're failing as a parent. Definitely not like the sweet little broken sentences of a three year old. They have activities and relationships all their own. Mommy is no longer the playmate of choice, just an acceptable alternative when all other options have been exhausted. What am I gonna do with all those cardboard blocks and train tracks?

That's not really all of it, though, because I'm adapting ok to that. I've always been better with older kids anyway. I, more often than not, look forward to the growing and changing of my kids. I love seeing their personality and individuality develop, and the fact that they can do the whole toilet thing all by themselves, THAT IS AWESOME!

The problem? I think the reason I'm dreaming of being naked in public is that I will now be the home teacher for two of my children, and my older son will soon be beyond my level of expertise. He's in 4th grade. Pretty soon, I won't be able to correct his homework without an answer key. Actually, that's already happened. I have a graduate level education, and I struggled with some of the concepts he brought home in 3rd grade math. Seriously. I don't think I could make it on that Jeff Foxworthy game show, Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader. My 4th grader can hold his own, though.

Serious props to all you teachers out there! I'm pretty sure I got what I needed from school, used it to build a foundation for college and completely wiped the rest from my mind. Actually, I think having three children had a lot to do with the emptying of my brain. Maybe years of Dora, Bob and Mickey had a little to do with it, too.

Is he ready for this? Am I ready? Will I completely ruin his chances of college because I can't explain the difference between a ray and a line? Is there a difference? What am I doing?

Then there is my beautiful, vibrant, funny, super smart Kindergartner who is already telling me how to teach her, and we haven't even finished a whole month yet. Between fearing the complete destruction of my 4th grader's education and dreading the arguments I anticipate with my Kindergartner, I think that's enough to trigger a silly dream. Don't you?

I googled it 'cause Google knows everything, and found a suggestion, to pay attention to what the other people were doing in my dream, how they reacted to my lack of clothing. After thinking about it, I had to literally laugh out loud.

The moms working the table with me were politely annoyed, but it was at my hesitancy and continuous absences, not my state of dress. One very special woman, whom I love and will not name right now, actually told me to get my head in the game, reminded me that I've got this, and told me to stop checking out. Other moms coming to the table were all smiles and thank you's. Actually, the only people who noticed were a couple of dads shaking their heads from a distant table.

Solidarity, Ladies! I must be surrounded by the best bunch of moms on the planet, or at least I truly, honestly feel supported and loved by y'all even though I don't feel adequate.

And, that's just it. None of us have all the answers. Most of us are just trying to get our children to adulthood alive. If they become productive, responsible and independent while still breathing, we should get a bonus. If we raise them to love the Lord and follow him when they don't know what they're doing, then we have succeeded, and I think that might be the point of all this.

I do NOT know what I'm doing, but I know someone who does. Not knowing what you're doing isn't a sin. It's human, and leaning on Jesus when I'm lost is so much more important a lesson than the difference between a line and a ray. Of course, my 4th grader still needs to know all that because the kid wants to be a mechanical engineer (God, help me, I'm an artist), but if he can't seek help and learn from the Master, then he'll fail in the bigger things, the things you can't take back.

So, I'm exposing myself, and hopefully, I can encourage a mom or two out there wondering if they've got what it takes to be the mom their kids need. Yes, you do. God gave you those babies and everything you need to get them to the jumping off point, that place where they fly away to the lives they were meant to live. Don't hesitate and freeze. Don't check out and disappear. Get your head in the game. You've got this.