Who remembers the awesome Calgon commercials? They featured a woman, who was clearly frazzled by work, family, and even the dog, who would say, "Calgon, take me away." The next scene was this woman, now looking serene, in a bathtub filled with perfect bubbles.
I so fell for that one! I was sure that I would have those moments, thanks in part to a luxurious bubble bath, when I would step away from life and feel rejuvenated. I truly thought those moments would come weekly, if not daily. I really believed that lying in a tub of water for hours would cure whatever ailed me.
No one told me that the water would get cold in 5 minutes, or that I would have to scrub vigorously to remove the oil and mud stains my cherubs left for me before I could bathe. Not one person informed me that I would be lucky to bathe alone for the first two years of each child's life. My own mother didn't even bother to tell me that if I did make it to the bath I'd be lucky to have a hand towel to dry off with.
I have learned that peace of mind looks waaaaay different than I thought it would.
Erma Bombeck, my patron saint, had the right perspective on motherhood and life. From a September 1974 article titled Motherhood - Love and Laughter she wrote:
As I sat in the middle of three children one night, chipping the enamel off my teeth by biting a knot out of a shoestring that a child had been getting wet all day long, I began to think about motherhood.
There seemed to be several avenues open to me: (a) take myself seriously and end up drinking gin just after the school bus left; (b) take the children seriously and and end up drinking gin before the school bus left; (c) admit to the fear and frustration and have a good time with it.
For me, admitting the fear and frustration is my saving grace. I do not even try to keep up the facade of having it all together. I just strive to not have ketchup on my elbow, or muddy hand prints on my rear. Pretending that all of my children sleep through the night, or that verb conjugating is something we do for fun, or that my husband and I have the perfect marriage, would not do me any favors. It is much more relaxing to just concede that I am in way over my head, and to hope and pray that people understand why I have turquoise painted nails (12 year old manicurist) and mismatched earrings.
Really, for me, peace of mind is knowing that every day I'm going to mess up, but that Jesus is my no-fail safety net.
I so fell for that one! I was sure that I would have those moments, thanks in part to a luxurious bubble bath, when I would step away from life and feel rejuvenated. I truly thought those moments would come weekly, if not daily. I really believed that lying in a tub of water for hours would cure whatever ailed me.
No one told me that the water would get cold in 5 minutes, or that I would have to scrub vigorously to remove the oil and mud stains my cherubs left for me before I could bathe. Not one person informed me that I would be lucky to bathe alone for the first two years of each child's life. My own mother didn't even bother to tell me that if I did make it to the bath I'd be lucky to have a hand towel to dry off with.
I have learned that peace of mind looks waaaaay different than I thought it would.
Erma Bombeck, my patron saint, had the right perspective on motherhood and life. From a September 1974 article titled Motherhood - Love and Laughter she wrote:
As I sat in the middle of three children one night, chipping the enamel off my teeth by biting a knot out of a shoestring that a child had been getting wet all day long, I began to think about motherhood.
There seemed to be several avenues open to me: (a) take myself seriously and end up drinking gin just after the school bus left; (b) take the children seriously and and end up drinking gin before the school bus left; (c) admit to the fear and frustration and have a good time with it.
For me, admitting the fear and frustration is my saving grace. I do not even try to keep up the facade of having it all together. I just strive to not have ketchup on my elbow, or muddy hand prints on my rear. Pretending that all of my children sleep through the night, or that verb conjugating is something we do for fun, or that my husband and I have the perfect marriage, would not do me any favors. It is much more relaxing to just concede that I am in way over my head, and to hope and pray that people understand why I have turquoise painted nails (12 year old manicurist) and mismatched earrings.
Really, for me, peace of mind is knowing that every day I'm going to mess up, but that Jesus is my no-fail safety net.
Sharing stories comes as naturally to me as breathing.I write here so I can do that. Grab a cup of something and stay a while.
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Just happened to stumble across your blog and pretty sure this was meant for me. How often we forget all moms have rough days :)
ReplyDeleteSo glad you stopped in! It is so easy to think that every other mother has it all together. I am thankful to help you feel less alone. :) Blessings!
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