I’ve noticed a common thread in many conversations between myself and my girlfriends. Fear. Fear of failure. Fear of messing up our kids. Fear of letting down our spouses. Fear of not measuring up.
I agree with this post (really worth the click, I laughed out loud in many places). The internet, Facebook, and blogs make it far too easy to compare ourselves with super-mom and constantly grade our performance. But the contest is rigged. No one posts their failures to the internet. You don’t often see the burnt bread. The bad report card. The reno nightmare.
Then, I heard about this: Pinterest failures
This is a place where people post their failed attempts at copying the picture-perfect-posted project. I heard about it for the first time yesterday and KNEW I would write about it today. This is where the real pictures are. This is where the people are who have learned to laugh at themselves.
In the spirit of being real (and laughing at yourself), I thought I would re-tell one of my shining moments as a mother. I’ll only hit the highlights since some of you might have read about it two years ago when it happened.
It all started when we planned to introduce our newly adopted boys to the family. We planned everything down to the smallest detail. When we arrived in Chatham, a full hour earlier than scheduled, I felt quite pleased with our efforts.
It didn’t take long for circumstances to put me in my place and snatch the somewhat smug feeling of accomplishment from me. I soon realized I had no clothes for the boys. They had nothing except the ones they were currently wearing.
That’s right. No clothes. Not a stitch.
I give you all permission to laugh.
The stores closed in ten minutes. My mom witnessed my frantic search through the suitcase, (which included throwing all our clothes out and onto the floor), and laughed hysterically. We quickly grabbed our coats and raced to the department store.
As the cashier rang up our purchases, my mother shared with her the reason for our late night dash. While compassion burned in her eyes, my cheeks burned with embarrassment.
If you have been there as a mother, this blog is for you. If you have had your shortcomings as a parent broadcast publicly I’ll keep you company and proudly hold my computer printed ‘Mother of the Year’ award (sent all the way from England praising me for remembering the children, even if they had no clothes).
When I first told this story I invited readers to share their experiences. If you want to read their replies click the original Mother of the Year post and scroll down to the comment section. Go ahead, misery really does love company.
I once again extend the invitation into transparent living. Not one of us has it all together (no matter how it looks on Facebook or Pinterest!) Instead of comparing, let’s cheer one another onward. Let’s laugh together. Let’s lighten the mood and in the process lighten the load.
Happy Valentine’s Day to my fellow Mother’s of the Year!