The standards of how a mother is supposed to be, act, what she is supposed to do, how much is she supposed to do are fucking high and I am done.
Lately, I have been getting bombarded with all these outrageous expectations from people, these expectations are so high, that it would be like high jumping over the CN Tower without getting the point stuck in your ass. Not going to happen.
I want to know why do we have to be so ‘Perfect’ Why can’t we just be a okay mom. That okay mom still gets the job done. Yeah maybe we aren’t baking the perfect cake with fondant roses, but the kids are happy, healthy, clothed and bellies are super full. Why can’t that be enough? Why can’t we ever be enough?
If COVID has taught me anything, that it is okay to not have your shit together. That pile of shit is YOUR shit. Not grandmas, not your moms, not Sindy from up the street. It’s your shit. So however you want to deal with that stinky pile of shit, do it at your own pace.
Potty training it’s fucking hard. Trying to figure out the cues of when they need to go, setting timers, wondering why everything is wet… did he seriously pee on the new toilet paper roll? If your little man wants to go pee on a tree then the scary porcelain monster, let him. Honestly in my book that’s a damn win! Potty training is not an overnight thing, you cannot snap your fingers like Thanos and make all your potty training woos vanish like dust. It takes time and it also has to do with your child.
So your child hasn’t conquered online learning, that is okay. Us parents were just thrown into the role of being a teacher. Let’s be honest here, a child’s home was not meant to be their school as well, trying to get them to sit down for more than 5 seconds is a damn chore on its own. If you can get them to do 1 math sheet or write their name on paper 5 times. YOU are winning.
Okay, so you totally forgot to change your laundry over, throw that laundry in the dryer with 17 bounce sheets and away you go. The laundry will always be there, it is like that clingy boyfriend in high school that is just lurking in every corner. If you want to put up your feet and read that book you have been putting off and drink some wine. Girl doo it! That laundry will still be waiting for you to write that love letter back.
Dishes, dishes, dishes. I used to get mad when men “let the dishes soak” but now that I am a mom and the kids for some reason, they have to get a new plate or cup for every piece of food they ever eat. I swear one half of the peanut butter sandwich goes on one plate, the other half on another. Then we have grapes on a brand new plate and so on. For every sip, they have to get a new cup, and oh man DO NOT give your toddler a colour they don’t want. I let them sit for a bit. Because you know why… fuck it!
I am done.
My kids are kind (not so much to their siblings WWF up in here). My kids know their manours, (Sometimes they only say it when they really want something) but they know them. My kids are thriving in school (they might not be the next rocket scientist yet) but they are doing okay and that is all I should ask of them. Is for them to do their best. The more we put pressure on them the more they push away. I want my kids to enjoy learning.
I am done caring what other people think. I know, I am doing okay. The kids are not going to remember how much laundry you did, or when you did the dishes. They are not going to remember that one day you swept the dirt under the rug. They are going to remember who was there always and that was YOU.
So say it with me, I AM DONE.
I am done listening to everyone tell me how I am supposed to be.
I am done listening to everyone tell me how I am supposed to do everything.
I am done caring what people think of me. Rock that hot mess mama all the way to town.
I am done.
Yes, some people are not going to like it. They are going to bitch. Let them. Once you start to not give a shit. That is when you can breathe.