I am not a supermommy. I never will be. Martha Stewart and Rachael Ray are not my idols. Those online moms that post about their 2-year-old reading, cooking three meals a day, breastfeeding till age 5 and building a DIY whatever — they are not me. I have nothing, and I mean nothing, against such awesome moms, but I am just not one of them.
Here are 10 reasons I am not a supermommy — and don’t care to be
1. My 4-year-old still doesn’t know all his ABCs
Sawyer attends public school in Mexico. It may take him longer to learn his alphabet, but he will get there. The plan is to immerse him in Spanish for a few years so that he will be fluent in two languages: English and Spanish.
2. I hate cooking and don’t mind frozen meals
My darling husband is our family cook. Yep, that’s right. Brad can’t work due to health problems related to an old brain injury. He is a stay-at-home dad, and he has taken our kitchen by storm.
3. My kids watch too much TV
There are days when our big screen TV has been on longer than it has been off. It all started with Baby Einstein many years ago — that series and the Disney movies. We had the whole collection. I use the TV as a babysitter, and I am not afraid to admit it. I know it’s not the “correct” way to parent, but it helps me stay sane. Just so you know, my kids are still super intelligent, too much TV or not.
4. We homeschool and I don’t like it
Let me clarify. I love having more family time with my girls, but I hate the whining and complaining that comes with homeschooling in our house. “I don’t understand the ‘teach me’ videos!” “I miss recess!” “My teacher helped me more!” “Public school was more fun!” “I have to go to the bathroom.” “My computer is not working.” “I can’t find my book.” “I want to do more arts and crafts.” Teaching is not my forte.
5. I don’t play with my kids like I should
That’s why I have four kids: “Play with each other!” I think I have played Barbie once with my 10-year-old, and that might have been last year. For the first time this week, I played Memory with my son to help him learn his ABCs. My idea of fun with the kids is hiking, swimming or practically anything related to being outside. Unfortunately, that is not always possible in the city.
6. I am not a consistent parent
My ADHD being inconsistent is one of my worst flaws as a mother. I know consistency is super important, and frankly, I am terrible at it. I have the innate ability to block out almost anything when I get in my zone, including the kids’ bad behavior. So, for the same action, one time they get in trouble and the next time I ignore it. I can’t blame my kids for being confused when the blame lies with me.
7. I yell at my kids and lose my temper
In public, people will compliment me on my patience with my kids. Inside I am laughing. Basically, I just don’t want child services (I don’t even know if we have this in Mexico) to take my kids away. I bite my tongue in public. At home, everyone knows when mommy had enough because I am very vocal about it. I yell, lose my temper, need alone time and return later with apologies.
8. My kids have an attitude, and it’s partly my fault
I blame the other half on my husband. Both of us are loud, independent and opinionated. What do you get when you mix two people like that together? Trouble, that’s what. We have four little troubles. Our parents consider it payback.
9. I don’t take care of myself
I don’t exercise on a regular basis. I don’t eat healthy. I have a Jell-O baby belly. I discovered dry shampoo recently and I love it: I don’t have to take a shower as often and I can leave the house dirty without anyone knowing. Life is better with dry shampoo and deodorant.
10. Sometimes I wonder how much easier my life would be without children
When I am having a meltdown because I am feeling completely overrun and overwhelmed with kids, I can’t help but think of the calm and quiet in a childless home. Every so often, when times are particularly tough, my husband will say, “I didn’t want kids.” This is true, although he loves them dearly. Why do I get mad at him for saying this when secretly, I am saying to myself, “What in the world was I thinking?”
For all these reasons and more, I am not a supermommy. I have come to accept this fact over the years and I am OK with it. I don’t care to be someone I am not. I can always try to improve, but I won’t succeed in all areas. It’s not possible.
I pray with my children, teach them to love people, kiss and hug them, read the boys Dr. Seuss, take the girls to Starbucks, explore Mayan pyramids with four kids in tow and play Ticket to Ride on family game night. This is the stuff that makes great memories.
I am still winning the parenting battle. I am not a failure. I don’t need to be a supermommy to be a good parent. I love my kids and they know that. What more can we ask of ourselves?