Polly Sunshine Can Take a Hike

I’m having a rough day today. I’m just putting that out there, because so many times we try to hide our imperfect suburban interiors behind a façade of Polly Sunshine hair and makeup, paired with the perfect stay-at-home Mom Outfit—donned in chic boots, the ultimate denim, and a crisp blouse, accessorized by scarves, smiles and all that shit  Whatever.  It’s just not there for me today. 

(Total aside, I actually hate blouses.  I find I always have to use some double-sided basting tape to make sure the spaces between the buttons don’t gape open.  Stupid.  On the upside, I’m glad that tape exists.)

I’m starting to freak out a little about my whole purpose.  My kids are getting older.  I have a college degree and no paid job.  I am a Mom.  Usually, I think that’s enough. I *know* I am fortunate to be able to be home with my kids—it’s a choice I’ve made.  My kids are smart and kind and wonderful, even on their worst days.  I like to think I play a hand in who they are becoming. 

But, while they are at school, my days are filled with grocery shopping, house cleaning, laundry, figuring out how to make my sometimes-crazy dog be less of an ass.  

Ok, right now it’s filled with me pouring out my emotional upheaval into a Word document.  Cheaper than therapy, right? Laundry can wait a few minutes. Apparently so can a shower.  Don’t judge.

Then, the kids come home from school.  We smile and say hello, ask each other about our days. I fill my afternoons and evenings with what feels like taxi-driving and nagging.  Did you get your homework done?  Wipe off the countertops!  Time to shower—and use shampoo on your hair and soap on your body.  Yes, I mean that.  (Yes, these are things I have actually uttered).  Who didn’t wipe off the countertops?! Seriously, I’m not the maid!  My voice sometimes gets louder as the day grows shorter.

That’s where my college degree has gotten me. I’m a glorified, unpaid maid and taxi driver, whose biggest perk sometimes feels like some pretty awesome hugs at the end of a long day, if I’m lucky.

Now that I’ve spun off topic, let’s get back to my rough day.  My oldest is at the point of looking at colleges. She has zero idea of where she wants to go.  Well, she has some ideas—and they are all quite spectacular and respectable.  She’s got a brilliant mind—I truly believe she is capable of anything, once she finds her voice and her confidence.  She’s got an amazing heart.  Put the mind and the heart together—what a package.

But we are in that middle ground of not qualifying for need-based financial aid and not making enough that we can afford to send her to whatever school she dreams to go to and still give opportunities to the other kids in the house.  Or still afford to eat.

So I called my husband a DreamCrusher yesterday.  That’s right.  I did.  I kinda mean it, which makes me glad I hold to my “speak the truth” stance but sad that I now see him that way.  He’s cautious.  Sensible.  Pessimistic.  A DreamCrusher.  I want my children to dare to step away from the comfort zone that is their home and their hometown and seek their own lives where they want to be.  I never did that.   I got married young, got my college degree from an amazing institution, and here I am.  I let my husband’s fears and hesitant nature guide where we lived and what we’ve done for the past 20 years. 

Back to my rough day: I’m thinking I should find a job, just to pay for my children’s education and opportunities beyond education between now and college.  I don’t know how on earth I can work full-time and manage what I do around the house—especially once 3:00 p.m. strikes and the bus brings home the kids.  I’d have to use some of my income to hire a driver to get them to where they need to be. 

I’m exhausted with the feeling of Mom is Last.  I know there are countless blogs and words of wisdom out there saying to put yourself first.  Whatever.  How do people succeed in doing that?  My JOB right now is to put my kids first.  To not be the DreamCrusher. 

My head is spinning with all of the thoughts and have-to’s in my head.  All of the things currently not getting done because I’m sitting here writing.  I’m not making sense, even to myself.  Yet I have a feeling some of you will be able to relate. 

Tomorrow will be another day.  Hopefully not with me feeling just as shitty though. 

To the One Mom (though I'm sure there are more)

To the One Mom who seems to think it’s ok to judge me or my kid:

I am not in competition with you.  Neither is my child. 

Please do not hide under the guise of being a “Christian woman,” only to nitpick and gossip about me or my child.  Especially my child.  You are an adult.  Your kids hear you, mimic you, and will become very much like you as they get older.  So if Christian-based learning is what you are hoping for them, you should consider taking a step back and thinking about what that means to you as you go about your day-to-day living. 

I love my children, and I support them in their daily lives, whether it is with their academics, sports, arts, or spare time.  I recognize that they have their individual talents and “gifts,” but I also acknowledge that they are not perfect.  Nor am I.  Truly, I do not believe that any person is perfect.  But I think that’s ok. We couldn’t continue to grow, flourish, or evolve, if we were perfect, and I think an enjoyable part of life is having the opportunity to grow, flourish, and evolve. 

And guess what?  I support your child, too.  I think it’s ok to be happy with someone else’s success, and to be sad for someone else’s less-than-successful moments.  To empathize.  To sympathize.

So when I find out that you, who hasn’t really spoken to me since mid-summer, for reasons petty and dripping with insecurity, asks my child how a particular event went, I find myself feeling disappointed.  In you.  You weren’t asking out of care or concern for my child.  You were asking out of petty-minded hopefulness for my child to fail. 

How do I know?  Because after my daughter said no, that she didn’t get accepted this time, you turned to other moms and snickered and started to gossip as she walked away.  People notice these things, just so you know. 

Here’s the thing:  My daughter, sad as she was that she didn’t get in this time, has shaken off her disappointment.  She is ready to work hard and try again next time.  Guess what?  She’s also sad for your daughter, who also didn’t make it in, because she sympathizes with the feeling of disappointment.  She thinks of your daughter as her friend.  She’s not ashamed of herself for not succeeding this time.  And she shouldn’t be.  She’s proud of herself for trying again, for thinking it was easier this time, for knowing she’s a little closer to her goal if she keeps working hard. 

And here’s another thing: My daughter is happy for the kids who did make it in, who are succeeding, and who are working hard and being rewarded.  She is proud of her friends.  And that makes me even more proud of her.  She has a good heart.  I hope she always does.

As I get older and see who and what is truly important to me, I am happy to say that I do try to surround myself with the people who reflect upon me positively.  I use the term “reflect” because I think it describes a friendship or relationship well—if you shine your light and you shine it with kindness, it’s going to light up someone’s life, and that person will reflect the light of kindness right back to you. 

So, to you, One Mom—as much as I’d love to just go up to you and tell you I think your spirit is a little jaded, I won’t do that.  I will hope for you to someday have an epiphany and figure out how to shine a light of kindness rather than cast a shadow on those in your path.