I decided to join the blogging bandwagon this year to document my attempt at becoming the Super Mom I always dreamed I'd be. With the new year gleaming it seems pretty promising. Especially with people like my sister setting the pace... you know the *real* Super Moms... the ones that make it look so damn easy. People you look up to, aspire to be, and yet get a smug satisfaction when they bring their kids to school in their PJs for PJ day... a day too early. Not that she would *EVER* do that. (Yeah, okay... she really did do that- heehee).
I have a very bright child. A very loving child. She is extremely witty. Fun to be around. She is also a handful.
I always knew I would have the most amazing child. She is everything I could have hoped for and more (much more). That was pretty much the only thing I was right about. My child was going to come out of the womb a blank slate that I would mould and refine with my Super Mommy powers. I had no idea that statement was a non sequitur. I'm sure when I talked to more seasoned mommies about my ideals, they were just humoring me by listening and not cluing me into the fact that kids come out of the womb with their own Very Unique personalities.
Here is a list of things I was absolutely certain of:
She would sleep through the night in her own room.
I would nurse for the requisite 6 months then wean her overnight.
She would be polite but personable, empathetic but not a doormat.
She would be an independent thinker but thoroughly obedient.
She would be wildly popular because, well, we'd be the "cool" house.
And as for me... well, I'd be the "cool" mom in the "cool" house. I would be nurturing but my own person. I would stay at home until she went to school, and then rejoin the workforce. I'd be homeroom mom. Girlscout leader. Live in a show room house, serve dinner of a meat and two different colored veggies AT THE TABLE every night at a certain time. I'd lead the kid(s) to the bath and laugh at their silly bubble adventures. Towel them off with fluffy towels and don them in PJs freshly warmed from the dryer. Read them a story all tucked in their beds, kiss them and admire them from the doorway after I switched off the light.
I didn't know about the huge 'monster problem' I'd be having. Didn't foresee the FIVE year old clinging terrified to me night after night as I promise to stay on 'mommy alert' and keep her feet safe from the claws, since she likes to sleep with one leg out of the covers.
Or how life keeps smacking me like a wave and knocking me back.
But I still have my ideals. I do lead the bath and laugh at the silly bubble adventures. Then grin and pray for sanity as she collapses into tears because she is "cold" but won't use two towels or get into her freshly warmed PJs shrieking "NOT THOSE ONES!!" I also won't admit to having to wash her hair as she screams in protest or holding her nose and dunking her flailing body for a rinse. And if I won't admit to that, then you'll never know about the time I held her down and scrubbed her teeth after two days of refusals and quickie brushing.
I know I'm not the only single mother in the world, and I know I have it comparably good... no, *GREAT* compared to a lot of single mothers. I'm also not the only single working mother who has decided to go back to school (online) at night. Or who has been known to let the wee child stay up until almost midnight promising myself as soooooon as I finish this last bit of my homework, I'll start the war with the monsters and get her to bed properly (since the 'lay on the couch and fall asleep next to me' idea was an utter failure).
But I have ideals, dammit! I will learn new skills to make mornings smooth for both of us. I will research techniques on how to deal with a child who questions EVERYTHING (although that isn't completely a bad trait, mind you). This will be the year my child gets to school before the bell, and thus picked up from school at a decent time. The year I get organized. No, *really* organized!! Once I get a table, we will eat there instead of in the living room. And please, God, let 2011 be the year my child sleeps in her own bed!
You are welcome along for the ride. It might not be pretty, but growing never is.