When did what some other Mom did become the end all to be all for what we have to do? Why do we feel guilty when we can't do what the professional cake decorator (who has had years of training doing what they do) did for some kids birthday? Why do we feel bad handing the kids' teachers a gift that they made or a basket of goodies instead of some cute cut out, trendy, monogrammed photo frame? Because we all know that 85% of the time it turns out badly or wrong. And then what? We go buy the cute store bought stuff and never ever (I mean ever so help you Martha Stewart, long may she reign) show anyone the mess ups. We either eat all them ourselves or give them to our two-year-old to destroy (because really, he doesn't care that we screwed up the cute eyes). Or we go buy the $600 machine to do it, because we'll keep doing it, and we buy all the accessories and three years later it's sitting like that Nordictrac system you mom just HAD to buy off QVC that really became a laundry holder instead of an exercise machine.
I'm not "on Pinterest". I don't understand why I need to spend hours and hours and hours bookmarking all these ideas and quotes and pictures of what Super Moms have done instead of just doing what I've always done. Get out a "kids craft" book or yeah, look on a blog to see what someone did. Try to make it if it's not too hard. I'm not a pastry chef. I don't have $5,000 worth of scrapbooking stuff. I don't know how to do perfect paper folds. I don't have professional ovens or a large craft room. And honestly, most people don't.
We are moms. We are busy. We make messes, and we can't be perfect. And we try to do the best for the kids we can. And 20 years from now they are not going to care that we cut out 600 card stock stars for their birthdays. They are going to care we gave them a party, that they had friends, and a family who loved them. And really, once they see that awesome pirate ship that lights up and sings pirate songs (even late at night, didn't you cut that thing off?) or the Elmo who can dance like Michael Jackson (technology is stupid scary sometimes) or play that video game that talks back to them and watches their every move (Fahrenheit 451 anyone?). And likely they won't remember that, because two weeks after the party they want something else. And they certainly aren't running around the playground with the other preschoolers going "hey did you see those awesome, hand-made cupcakes that my mom stayed up all night perfecting because she threw away the first batch?" Yeah, because that doesn't matter.
Now hey, I'm guilty of cute waste-of-timers. I make fun lunches, I write cute notes everywhere, and take time to make letter pancakes in the morning. We make fun dinners from scratch. I love to do cute things for the kids when I have time. But it doesn't make me feel like a failure if I can't do it. Nor does it make me feel superior when I do things like that. I'm not awesome. Heck, I'm holding on to this crazy day to day by the seat of my pants. 99% of the time I am just trying to hold the day together. Maybe with one cute thing. Like a Muppet Band-Aid. :P
As we speak my 5 year old and 2.5 year old are licking the brownie mix out of the bowl while brownies are cooking. At 10:30am. And they are a mess. And it's *gasp* got raw egg. And now they might die of some disease that somehow escaped the children of our generation because you know what? We licked the brownie bowl. Heck yeah ... And we had plain sheet cakes. I mean, if you had told 5-year-old us you were going to smash our cake up, roll it into a ball like play-doh and put it on a stick we'd have laughed at you. Seriously? Cake Balls on a stick? I can't even say that seriously. Cake. Balls. Y'all? When did that become a "trendy, I'm-a-better-mom-than-you" word?
It's like peanut butter. You know my mama gave me peanut butter as soon as I could swallow it. It's smooth, yummy and full of protein. But when my 10-yr-old was born a child may explode if you gave them peanut butter before they were one. By the time my 2-yr-old was born, it was bumped up to two years old. TWO years of not having the gloriousness of peanut butter. And just recently they decided it was six months. Think not? Look here smarty pants ... and here and even on the big news stations, quoting pediatricians. Incredible. In ten years we've gone from NEVER EVER before One to don't you DARE before TWO to well, as soon as they can swallow good is okay ... you know why? Because somehow we survive. Kids have allergies, and eggs can make us sick. But these things are just things. Part of our DNA. And kids everywhere survive it. We somehow survived licking the batter off stuff, having normal cakes, and store bought invitations. We did because our parents didn't know we shouldn't.
It's okay to just be a mom. A regular, non-crafty, not Pinterest-worthy mom. It's okay to work 40 hours a week instead of knitting little chore chart tokens. And it's okay to do that too. If you have the know how and the gumption, then do it. But never feel like your kids will love you less one way or the other. Because sometimes you're the best mom your kids have, and that's enough.
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