This morning, I woke up with a spark. As I washed the dishes, my mind raced, feeding the beast, growing it until I thought I would burst.
Recently, I was excluded from something. The part that hurt the most was that I was blind-sided. No one said a word to me. I was just cut out. I whole-heartedly believe it was because of my blog, because maybe I appear to have too much on my plate, like maybe more time at home would help me get my affairs in order. I don't know, really. I was going to ask. But, then I realized it would be in vain. #1. I didn't want anyone to think I was whining. #2. Do you really think anyone would honestly tell me the truth? No way.
So, to spare myself some respect, I sucked it up and said, I won't let it get me down.
I knew divulging so much about myself on this blog was risky. I knew there would be some consequences. I figured there'd be a few hoity-toity people that would think less of me.
I just didn't think it would be these people. I'm bummed that they didn't get what I'm trying to do here.
So, what am I doing here?
There is a mom culture in our society with silently-defined expectations. This culture measures our self-worth by the tidiness of our playrooms, shine on our kids' cheeks, promptness of our families to events, the capacity of our memories.
It's wrong. It's women being hard on themselves and hard on each other. It needs to stop.
The worth of a mom should be measured by her love for her kids. It's invisible to the eye and is manifested differently in every family. For some women, it means they have to work to earn enough money for their kids to live in a safe neighborhood. For others, it means they get up extra early in the morning to braid their daughter's hair.
I just want moms to compare themselves to themselves, not the chick down the street. You know your best. You know what you're capable of. You know how much you love your kids. And you, only you know what that looks like.
So, to anyone who may doubt my abilities or may think I have too much on my plate, I'm sorry, but you're wrong. Please don't judge me by my mess and my Zoloft prescription. I used them to prove that, by my own definition, I do have it all together and this is what that looks like for me.
Please, I beg you, don't fall victim to the naïve, ignorant standards of mom culture.