Maybe there’s something wrong with the way I’m wired. Maybe I can blame it on my mom because after all she raised me. Or maybe I can blame it on society.. yes that’s a good idea I can blame it on society because my mom still scares me to this day and I don’t want to make her mad.
Nah, I think it’s just me. I just blogged yesterday about how proud I am about being called The Worst Mom Ever and now today I’m going to tell you about why I don’t like being called Supermom.
I can only assume that the term, Supermom is in reference to Superman, the man of steel, the beloved superhero of super heroes. He could leap over tall buildings, he was faster than a speeding bullet and could take a bullet without flinching. I am nothing like that. Forget leaping over tall buildings I can barely jump with two feet on to my stepper at the gym. Faster than a speeding bullet? uh? no. If you ask MrLibertyDee he will tell you I am the opposite of fast. (don’t mistake being in a hurry for the same as being fast because they are two very different things. Perhaps if I was faster I wouldn’t have to be in such a hurry) That whole thing about taking a bullet? Let me take that metaphorically because after all, all of us would at least flinch if we were hit by one of those. So let’s assume that in real life the bullet is a metaphor for those things in life that hit us hard. I flinch. I more than flinch. I fall. I cry. I’m heartbroken. And I’m not even talking about really tough things like loss. I’m talking Toy Story 3 when Andy gives up Woody. I can’t even read I Love You Forever without breaking down.
I am nothing like Superman and I am not a Supermom. I am far from perfect. I strongly rely on MrLibertyDee to be an active father. I rely on my family and friends for support and just because I can and will do anything for my kids and have a knack for “sucking it up” does not make me Supermom.
I hate housework, laundry and cooking. I hate the fact that I work and worse yet that I have a great job ( It takes me away from my family and I feel guilty that I like being there) I’ll take the kids to the park even if I don’t want to. I’ll take a day off of work to see their play that really isn’t even very good. I’ll take all three to their doctors appointments at the same time. I’ll drive for hours in traffic just to keep a promise. I’ll watch wrestling. I’ll listen to Gangam Style over and over again. I have even been known to build a medieval castle out of sugar cubes. I’ll do all their laundry ( eventually) and cook all their meals. I’ll get a second job if I have to to give them everything I can but don’t call me Supermom.
That title is just too much pressure and makes me feel like a fraud. What if one day I really just don’t want to suck it up? What does that make me then? And what message is my daughter getting? That as a mom you need to be perfect or at least have people believe you are? That is not the message I want to raise her with at all. So no matter what I have done or what I will do in the future for the sake of my family and most importantly my children. Don’t. Call. Me. Supermom.
I made a T-Shirt for this one this one too.