Perfect Moms

There’s an avatar in my head of the Perfect Suburban Mom. You know, the ones you kind of hate, but it’s really a little bit of envy and insecurity because you’re not that person? She has a stacked blonde bob that she must get trimmed every six weeks, is always holding a tray of cupcakes (a cute appropriately themed platter that suggests they are homemade and gluten-free, not the clear plastic ‘I picked these up at Kroger on the way here’ kind). She has a nice but not eye popping figure – too many muscles, and she must spend more time at the gym than on her kids, huge fake boobs and she’s not devoted enough to her husband. Her wardrobe is an endless supply of modest but cute sundresses and coordinated yoga outfits. She posts regularly on all of the text chains and various team apps (why can’t they all use the same one?!) giving real time updates on which shirts the football team is wearing to honor the retiring principal the next day, or suggesting the technique for the perfect cheerleading ponytail. She’s always selling tickets or chaperoning something, and is quick to whip out a bandaid or organic bug spray from her Mary Poppins bag. 

Hats off to you, amazing Super Moms everywhere – BUT, your success is not my failure. 

I cross paths with versions of the Perfect Mom often at various kid activities, performances, games. I currently share a duty with literally the exact avatar that’s been in my mind for years in real life! It’s like a Discovery Channel documentary come to life right in front of me, surreal and fascinating. The job is pretty simple, we bring a few items to weekly games where our worlds collide. I bring them, she takes them home, which is a clearly inefficient system, but it encourages parent involvement! When the volunteer sign up sheet went around, it seemed like the low-hanging fruit so I snatched that one up rather than be relegated to Team Mom or Booster Chair or God forbid, the Special Events Planning Committee. 

My meager effort at parent participation requires a mid-week trade off of a few essential items (which never seem to be used), so Mrs. Perfect herself pulls up to my house once a week in her shiny white SUV that screams car wash membership, with the family decals on the back windshield (tasteful in a cute font) and seven magnets for the school and every possible league and local cause artfully arranged. I’ve offered to pick them up, but she “doesn’t mind at all!” This means that weekly I feel the need to plump the pine straw or sweep the front walkway and put on an “outfit” in preparation for these 90 second encounters. I add extra exclamation points or emojis to my text messages to her and act like going to five sporting events every Saturday is the most awesomest thing ever!!!

Another mom I know casually because I’m in the thick of the my-friends-are-my-kids-friends-parents phase of life took her daughter to Paris to see Taylor Swift for Spring Break. Come on! (I actually found out later, flights plus international airfare can be cheaper for Swifties vs the US tour. But still.) We went to the movie theater version and to visit the grandparents for a night. Over the course of nine days away from school. One of the moms took twelve of them to the school carnival and I didn’t even care to know if she drives a minibus or threw them in the back of a pickup, I was just happy to get out of going myself. Yet another mom “just adores the sound of the piano” while our piano lives in my office and drives me insane. A perfect mom takes the kids to the library for hours, while I show them where our outdated encyclopedias are and unlock Google. One coaches my kids basketball team with her own freaking baby strapped to her back! Meanwhile, I run to the grocery store during practice to buy a frozen pizza for dinner when we get home.

I have to acknowledge it is just a little envy because it all looks so good and effortless. A little insecurity because I am not enough. Why don’t I throw Pinterest worthy birthday parties and cut orange slices into butterflies and keep to a schedule with my highlights? Am I a terrible person for thinking fifth grade graduation is so boring and wishing there was wine at the Little League concession stand? Should I have given the PE teacher a birthday present? I’m comparing my own insides to someone else’s outside. I have to say to myself, out loud like a crazy person, that Facebook, Instagram, and the game day face of the Perfect Moms do not show the full picture of a person’s feelings or their life. 

I have to remind myself that I don’t even want that life! I’m pretty sure this “perfect mom” caricature arranges a carpool so she can schedule sex every other Tuesday between 6:30-7:45 while the kids are at practice. That is, if her husband remembers to come home, because he does not actually relish the conversation that only consists of the latest PTA gossip or the middle school drama. She allows herself two skinny margaritas on Friday evening, but not if the kids have friends staying over, because that would be irresponsible and would distract her from the snack preparation and sleepover spa treatments. She’d save them for Saturday, but she doesn’t want to have bags under her eyes at church on Sunday morning. She spends time in the car-rider line (when there’s a perfectly good school bus) organizing her calendar and cataloguing the week’s innovative, international, organic dinner recipes, then carefully words the posts about the amazing achievements of her kids this week. I’m exhausted just thinking about being in that life. 

And then going further down the rabbit hole, I realize Mrs. Perfect probably isn’t even who I think she is. I saw one of these Perfect Moms bending over to help a toddler once and got the slightest peek at a tramp stamp on her lower back. I busted one at the drugstore in a well-worn AC/DC t-shirt. A Divorce Mom (lower down the totem pole, but still perfect-er than me) was even stealth swiping on Tinder in the bleachers! I see you in there. You all have your own identity too. You had a life before kids, probably even have one now. We’ve all got our own personality hiding out somewhere, some of us are just afraid to let it shine through the veneer of expectation. 

I have to actively remember that I have an awesome life (most of the time). I’m an awesome mom (often). I am an awesome person outside of being a mom (generally speaking). Sometimes our house is loud, sometimes it’s messy, sometimes we’re late, sometimes we forget things. But we love our kids, we dance and laugh and play games, we have a schedule, and we don’t always stick to it. There’s flexibility. We let our kids fail occasionally. We let the kids see us fail occasionally, because it’s how you handle not being perfect that matters to me. We do what we do and don’t worry about the outside perception, because those people that might give me a thumbs up online aren’t the ones that matter to me. 

I realize I have to let go of the comparison and competition that drive so many women. To look at other moms and think “good for them,” not “why am I not doing that?” So hats off to amazing Super Moms everywhere – BUT, your success is not my failure.