Let me tell you about my day. This morning I scooped shriveled carrot shreds out of the bathtub (I gave my kids vegetables in the bathtub last night… dangerous but effective). Snuggled with the sleepy, scrumptious baby. Had argumentative phone call with dental receptionist over bill. Let kids hop in bubbly bath. Scooped out shreds and shreds of cardboard pulp (boys were using box as aquatic airplane hanger, of course). Took boys to swim lesson. Wrestled and wrestled with baby determined for one hour to dive illegally (because he’s a baby) into the pool. Toweled off my little swimmers. Transferred sleeping baby from car to crib. Read email from sister who had cancerous spot removed from her face. Threw a load of laundry in, washed dishes, looked disappointedly at dingy kitchen floor. Tried to feed cranky-waking-up-baby a snack and ended up with a load of banana creamed into my hair. Went to our wonderful library and chose heaps of books and dvds with the children. Dinner was leftovers, bedtime was fast, and children are beautiful asleep in their beds.
My life is good. My life is lucky and blessed. My life is rich, and the richness comes largely from the contrast of crummy (kitchen floor) and sublime (downy pink baby cheek) and the endless arithmetic of the rest of the world in between. My genius sister sent me a link to a famous actress’s website aimed at mothers… can you guess it? It is darling and droll and perfectly designed. And remarkably empty. I’m not saying that this actress-mother’s life is empty… it’s probably not. I’m not even saying that this site is garbage; it’s a neat type of entertainment. I’m just saying that it was disappointing to see someone with such means use her elevated platform for more of the same. It makes me feel claustrophobic as a woman and a mother to see that the dialogue among us resembles a banter either so smug or so desperate that it often makes me want to chuck my computer off a cliff. Take your pick: creepy mom with frizzy-haired head in hands shouting “these kids are making me CRAZY!,” or aproned darling whipping up some hummus. Doesn’t the reality of motherhood lie in the millions of moments between these extremes? Can we talk about these moments? Or do we all struggle with these roles so much that the only face we want to give the world is that miserable theater mask flipped to either a perfect frown or perfect smile.
There’s a good chance that it was annoying for you to read about my day. It was so ordinary.
What do you think? I’d love to know.
This is wonderful…from a Mom a generation removed…I would have loved this dialogue when you all were growing up…yes, there were desperate days mixed with the sublime….but from my perch now looking at the nearing sunset of my days, I would give anything to go back…just for a minute!
I love reading about ordinary days–because that is my life. I find comfort (ohhhhhh so much comfort) in knowing Mommas who muddle through just like me. Ordinary days are what we do…and when we can find a little (or a lot) or joy in “ordinary” we feel a little (or a lot) better. All of the blogs I read are by Moms who are my friends. They write about sick babies, tantrum throwing toddlers, dramatic seven year-olds, dirty floors, piles of laundry and the little every day outings that make up life (the library, park, dentist…). I relish the stories of ordinary women because I know who these women are. I’ve been their neighbor, their friend, their babysitter–heck–I am one of these “ordinary” women. I know what kind of children they are trying to raise and I am proud that I know them. Honestly, if I didn’t know who they were, I would not care. I would not find any comfort in their ordinary lives because I’ve got enough of my own ordinary. I’ve heard of that celebrity mom’s web site. I have not checked it out. I don’t doubt that she is trying to raise good people but then again, how am I to really know? I cannot be her neighbor by reading her blog. Many days I am just a hairs-breath away from being that frizzy haired mom screaming “these children are driving me CRAZY!”. However, when I see (or read about) other Moms I know making it work the best they can I find my “happy” in all that “crazy”. I know I am ordinary but like you, I know I am lucky and blessed too. Here’s to the ordinary!
Now back to the kids, dishes and puddles of sticky popsicle juice all over the place.