Motherhood And The Never-Ending Quest For Perfection

The thing about parenthood is you never know exactly how you're going to react to it or what kind of parent you'll be until parenthood stops being hypothetical and starts getting real (pardon my blatant "Real World" intro knock off). Once you're responsible for the livelihood of another human being (or two or three or four...), it's natural to want to do the best job you can, to be the perfect mom. You can hope to be the mom who bakes organic muffins, packs healthy mulit-cultural school lunches, never raises her voice, always has a clean house and impeccable kids, but the fact is that you might never be that mom. In fact, that mom might not even exist. Perfection just might be a colossal mirage.

In my opinion, the idea of perfection is perpetuated by two things: The media and women who give the impression that everything comes easily to them, whether it actually does or not.

The media's kind of a given. Watch any cartoon from Dora the Explorer to Sesame Street (because if you have kids I can already safely assume that you watch very little adult TV) and you'll notice that the kids never have messy rooms, the moms are never covered in spit up or finger paint, and no one ever seems to lose their tempers, or even get annoyed with their children (and really, there's absolutely no freaking way that Dora The Explorer's parents don't want to lose it every time she asks them a rhetorical question and waits a solid seven minutes to answer it). I realize that we, as intelligent adults, have long understood that we can't believe everything you see on TV, but tell us that on a day when two kids have vomited grape Pedialyte into your hair and you have to hide in the bathroom and scream into a pillow to stop yourself from screaming at them, and all you want is to live in a lively, mess-free house like Dora's parents get to. And don't act like that never happens to you. Let's be honest. Some sort of variation of that situation happens to absolutely everyone at least once.

Which brings me to my second point, effortless Mommyhood. I'm fortunate enough to have some really great friends with whom I can be completely honest and vice versa. I don't think anything saves your sanity more as a mom than a like-minded mommy-friend. Granted, I know that the wonderful guy who generously donated half of his DNA to produce our children and has subsequently done an amazing job helping to raise them, understands what I'm going through too. Just not in the same way. He leaves the house for work everyday and gets to miss a full eight hours of tantrums, messes, chicken nuggets and begging to watch TV a thousand times after I've already said no (I might actually resent him for this if he didn't also miss eight hours of hugs, giggling, and trips to the library and park). Fellow moms don't miss a beat and it's nice to have someone who can tell you that you're not crazy because your kids are driving you nuts, and that you can go over to their house for margaritas and to just let all of the kids run around and be nuts together. A good mommy-friend is even better, and infinitely more fun and less expensive, than seeing a shrink. 

Unfortunately, motherhood doesn't always appear to be so psychosis-inducing to everyone. There are the 'perfect mommies' and they are the soul-sucking worst. You know the type. They always look perfect, have endless patience, sweet voices and talk enthusiastically about crafts. They're the kind of women who lost baby weight with ease and who never answer "How are you?" with anything other than "Fantastic!". No matter what they're doing, they always appear to be doing it effortlessly.

If you just read that and thought "You mean, good moms?", stop reading. Right now. Stop reading this and never come back here. Seriously.

Because truthfully, unless these women are really good at faking enthusiasm or on some serious drugs, I'm not completely certain they are real. At least, not every day. I'm smart enough to realize this, but not smart enough to remember it when I'm on my eighth-consecutive bad day and I see another mom just breeze through life like motherhood is the most natural thing in the world to her. And she's almost always dressed better than I am. If that makes me sound jealous or bitter, it's only because I am.

 I try to be a perfect mom, I really do, I just can't seem to pull it off as convincingly as other people. Do I love my children more than anything? Without a doubt.  Do I play with them and talk to them and try to encourage their mental and physical growth in every way I can? Absolutely. Do I occasionally lose my temper or wish for more sleep or to just go to the bathroom by myself? You betcha.

Allow me to bear a bit of my soul for a minute: I think Mandarin Chinese classes for a three-year-old are absolutely insane. I find expensive "learning toys" asinine, especially since my kids will inevitably only be interested in coloring on the box it came in (and will eventually wind up breaking the toy). While a big fan of schedules, I think it's ridiculous to micro-manage my two-year-old's day. Which is why I feel like a horrible mother when the perfect moms try to talk to me enthusiastically about all of these things. I'm a good mom but I'm far from perfect. And if I'm being perfectly honest, then I admit that I hate how I sometimes allow that lack of perfection to irritate me so much.

The conclusion I've reached is this: The media is too far gone for us to even contemplate changing anything about it, so let's all just agree to remind ourselves that neither Dora nor her perpetually perfect parents or gigantic football-shaped head are real. Better yet, just turn off the TV altogether.

As for the perfect moms...let's all try to remember that they might be an urban myth. You never know what goes on behind closed doors and that face of perfection might be a fraud. Those moms just might be as tired and frustrated as the rest of us, if not more so, and just have a better game face. If that's the case, then I wish they would stop pretending to be perfect because it can't possibly feel very good for them and it actually makes the rest of us feel really bad too. Instead, slumming it with the imperfect moms might be just what the doctor ordered! So come on down to our level! You might be appalled by the fact that since Ben is such a deep sleeper and it's so hard to wake him up that I let Layla bang her toy drum in his face, but I do. And that's okay. The moms I'm privileged to call my friends are honest and non-judgmental and above all, have fantastic senses of humor, which you have to have if you ever have a kid that poops on you. And if you're anything like me, you might take solace in the fact that none of us really have a clue what we're doing, but we're doing the best we can anyway and getting through it all together.

And if you are actually a perfect mom...well...good for you. Keep up the good work. And if you see one of us lowly imperfect moms looking particularly disheveled and frustrated and you can find it in your heart to take your own perfection down a notch, that would be great.