Mothers. We come in all shapes and sizes, all different ethnicity's from all walks of life. Why then is it so easy for moms to be duped into thinking that we have to fall into the perfectly manicured, cookie cutter, Leave it to Beaver image of moms that is constantly being fed to us by the media, acquaintances or worst of all, our own inner "mean girl"?
The other day found my husband and I walking through a beautiful park, bathed in sunshine. You could not have asked for a more beautiful setting. The park included breathtaking redwoods, weeping willows and maple trees lining the banks of several small, mirror smooth ponds. I should have been ecstatic to be walking on my own two legs through such beauty with the man I love and our healthy, happy, beautiful baby boy. I should have not had a care in the world. Yet as we wandered, i couldn't help but compare myself to other moms and dads that I saw walking by. I saw two moms that were walking with their perfectly symmetrical baby Bjorn's strapped to their perfectly shaped bodies and I wondered why, when I strap my baby Bjorn on, it always seems to be at a bit of an angle, or the baby always seems to be hanging a little low. Why were their babies not fussing or spitting up on them. And how, in the world, did they manage to lose that baby weight so fast. couple after couple seemed to stroll by with their bright white smiles and their designer strollers, making me ever more aware of my tangled hair, tired eyes and second hand stroller. I thought about a woman i had met a few weeks before who told me that her son had had 100 people at his first birthday. I wondered if my son would be scarred for life by the fact that he might only have 10 attendees, or even worse just mom and dad and a homemade cake.
After we had returned home, I took some time to reflect on the things I had noticed and to weigh my insecurities against reality. Will my son grow up to be a horrible person because his Baby Bjorn hung slightly low and to the left? Will he look back on his second hand stroller with disgust and want nothing to do with me? Will he hate the thought of celebrating another birthday ever again because of the lack of attendance at his first. ummmmm...probably not. And even the fact that I was giving any breathing room to these silly thoughts and made up ideals was ridiculous. Who started the myth that we as mothers have to be perfect all the time, that without designer things, we're not just as good a mom as the next mom?
I have never been perfect, nor will I ever be perfect, nor do I believe that anyone or anything is perfect. So I will do my best and continue on with tired eyes and the occasional mop of unbrushed hair, I will stop comparing what I don't have and instead be grateful for what I do have. I will teach my son that it is what is on the inside, not the outside that is most important. I will do my best to teach him to be a good, wise, strong person and hope that it catches on. And, someday, should he ever pass someone in a park, holding a perfectly aligned Baby Bjorn, with perfectly white teeth, manicured nails, impeccable hair and an amazing "no one can tell that I just had a baby" body and stop to ask, "is that how you looked when I was little mommy?" I will tell him no. I will tell him that sometimes mommy was tired, or forgot to brush her hair, or walked out of the house without a stitch of makeup on, but that I never forgot what was really important: his happiness, his safety, his health. And when i tell him this, I won't feel even the least bit guilty about it :)
To imperfect mothers, everywhere
-New Mommy in Town
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