I AM SUPERWOMAN… WHAT?

I AM SUPERWOMAN… WHAT?

Superwoman???? Over the past few weeks I’ve been called Supermom… Rockstar…. Superwoman.  I just roll my eyes.  I’m just me.  I’m not doing anything fantastic or special.  I’m barely holding it together.  Supermom?  Holy hell no way!

Or maybe I am?  I can see it now…

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Wanted: SUPERWOMAN

Must be able to keep 3 kids alive daily, load the dishwasher everyday, wipe down the counters, wash and fold endless laundry, take care of the sickies, change 42 diapers a day, clean up the spills, wipe the heineys, bathe the kids (may be deferred to Dad), mop said floor after bathtub, vacuum and clean up toys everyday, feed the animals (um, children), make the beds (on occasion), drive to school/camp, handle a crying/whining toddler, potty train said toddler (not forgetting to clean the pee and poop off the floor when they miss), become a playmate (bubbles, puzzles, legos, barbies and such). Must be able to complete all these tasks (and about 50 more in 24 hours… 7 days a week). 

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Well it sounds like a damn glorious job doesn’t it?  Who wouldn’t want to fill that job description?  I hit it.  I’m there.  Where’s the problem?  The tears.  The frazzlement.  The 2, 4 and 6 am wake-up calls.  The “What Am I Going to Do With Them Today?” The “I tried today, I really did.” The “I’m so tired I can’t even get the words out to speak”. The OMG I have to do this AGAIN tomorrow????  I’m so sure that Superwoman says that everyday! Don’t you?

We’ve been dealing with some health issues over the past month with my son.  Nothing too major.  The kid just can’t seem to catch a break… and the germies have spread throughout the house at times.  It’s June.  We want outside at the park, on the skates, the bike, in the pool, but we are stuck in resting. Yesterday I (Superwoman!) decided to hit the local fast food joint as a small treat for them (Gasp!  How could I! Judge away).  It was drive thru but it got us out of the house for 10 minutes.  Superwoman here said NO to adding ice cream to the list.  What ensued over the next 10 minutes due to those two little letters was classic.  An 8 year old sobbing and refusing to talk to mom, a 3 year old who continually asked, “Why Mom? Why??!!”, and a 7 month old screamed to get out of the car seat in all the chaos.

Superwoman (yeah, that’s me).  Superwoman pulled over and started to cry, too.  With the goal of just doing something nice for the kids after a month long saga of crap had been crushed into a ball of misery…. ice cream being the stupid Kryptonite.  Ice Cream!  Superwoman isn’t a hero.  Superwoman is mortal.  Superwoman loses her shit at least once a month… er, a week… er, maybe every few days.  She powers through.  Tries to be strong in front of the kids because they need their mom.  They need their hugs and kisses regardless of how mom feels but Momma needs a damn vacation.  (Anyone want to chip in and buy me a trip to Aruba?)

The truth is Momming is hard. So so hard. Whether you have one, two, three or 10 (Gasp!).  It’s selfish (who wouldn’t want hugs and kisses all day).  It’s rough (sticky hands, boo-boos, and senseless melt-downs) .  It’s happy and full of smiles.  It’s sad and full of tears (sometimes your own).  It’s a blessing.  It’s a downer.  It all depends on the day.  You are human.  You’re kids are human.  They’ll always be good days and bad but somehow we all make it through.  Hug your kids.  Suck in the great.  Suck in the good.  They will always get you through the rough and tumble.  You may have to think hard to remember them some days but they make you laugh.  They make you grin.  Only Superwoman can have Superkids (and love their SuperDad, too).

 

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