Watching “Leave it to Beaver” reruns on Nickelodeon was an all time favorite of mine as a kid. Like a window into Norman Rockwell’s soul, Americana could not have looked any sweeter. How simple life seemed back then, kids could play in the streets, dad went to work and mom stayed home. Family roles were clearly defined and though most likely confining for women, I’m guessing there was also some comfort in the concrete expectations of motherhood.
These days, our role as “mother” is less clearly defined and certainly more all-consuming. We have working moms, stay-at-home moms, a combination of the two, volunteer moms, PTA moms, soccer moms, single moms and the list goes on and on…What remains true of today and generations past is this: moms do the best they can but feel as though it is never, ever enough.
We post pictures on Facebook in hopes of reflecting our best selves as moms. I’m guilty of this too as I never post pictures of my kitchen after breakfast, nor do I stop to take a selfie as I’m shamelessly yelling at my kids to, “hurry up and put on your socks!” I don’t post pictures of myself half-dressed and cutting off people to get into carline and I certainly didn’t post a picture of myself flipping the bird when my son’s back was turned the other day.
It’s only natural to want to see ourselves in the best light because it’s hard to admit that sometimes, we don’t know what we’re doing and often times we feel like whatever we do is crappy in comparison to other moms. Just the other day I handed Elora one of those pureed fruit squeeze pouches (beets to be exact) while she was in her car seat. Driving 20 minutes to Mygym, I was just bopping along listening to my 80’s station when I realized it was way too quiet in the backseat. When we arrived and I went to get Elora out, she was covered from head to toe in red beet puree. With no change of clothes and dried out wipies, I started wiping her clean with anything I could find in the car, all the while quietly repeating this chant, “oh f#!k, oh f#!k, oh f#!k..” Long story short, I was able to buy a cheap onesie at Mygym and we were good to go. Once I was able to catch my breath however, I realized I overreacted, it was my fault for giving it to her and for heaven’s sake, there’s real stuff going on in the world far more dire than puree all over my car. I beat (pun intended) myself up mentally for a good 30 minutes before I was able to let it go.
The following Saturday, I made some of these delicious lemon pancakes. As I’m mixing, pouring and flipping, listening to some ethereal Mazzy Star and Cat Powers, I’m starting to feel like a good mom again. The kids sit down, no one is in a rush and the smell of syrup and fluffy pancakes is thick in the air. Everyone’s enjoying their breakfast, no one is fighting or asking for anything, just easy conversation and I think for one moment, this is it. I created this moment by being a good mom and making pancakes. As I was clearing the table Elora asked:
Elora: “More?”
Me: “More pancakes?”
Elora: “Yah”
Me: “Sorry honey, we’re all out.”
Elora: “ohhhh f#!k!”
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