Kids are not Embarrassing

 

     My kid's behavior does not embarrass me.  I am a grown adult so I try not get flustered by things that happen out of my control.  That includes the ways my children behave.  Don't get me wrong I don't want my kids to be jerks in public and we are all working on that.  My kids acting out does not mean I am a bad mom, it means that they are being children.  My kids dressing in weird clothes does not mean I am a bad mom, it means they are learning their style.  My kids crying does not mean I am a bad mom, it means they are having feelings. Kids are not born knowing exactly how to behave in public.  Instead of shaming my kids for doing something my job is steer them into more acceptable behavior so they can make better choices. While they are going through this learning process I'm not embarrassed by others' reaction.  They're responses to my children's behavior is not my concern.  Loving and supporting my children is what I'm more concerned with. 

     The grocery store is a great learning experience and a great equalizer.  So many different types of people can be found at our local grocery store and my three year old is going to say hello to all of them.  Most people are very receptive to her cute little conversations.  However, every once in a while her adorable greetings can be annoying to some.  I'm teaching her to try and not be a nuisance.  My job is to explain to her that some people don’t want to talk to you in the grocery store.  I'm not judging those people.  I usually try to think that they are having a rough day or maybe they are just in a big hurry.  Possibly kids might creep them out, I know my kids can be creepy.  Whatever the reason, I'm trying to teach my super sociable toddler to understand some people just don't want to talk to you sometimes.  Awkwardly she usually yells at them or tries to stare them down as they walk away.  This is all part of the learning process and I am not embarrassed by my three year old shopping cart stalker.  

     My seven year old has her own unique sense of style.  From the time she was two she started dressing herself in fun and unconventional ways.  Some days she would wear pajamas, some days she would wear her underwear outside her pants, and some days she would wear two tiaras with a ballerina costume.  Whatever she decides to wear it is always interesting and fabulous.  She gets such joy out of coming up with her fashion creations.  Now that she is in first grade I have tried to steer her into more school friendly attire.  However, every once in awhile she will still put on a crazy headband or bow to jazz things up.  We have been in public spaces many a time while she is dressed like a person that escaped from a mental institution.  People will always stare and sometimes we get the occasional judgmental gasp.  Everyone once in a while we will get a person, usually an elderly lady, who just gushes over her fabulousness.  I'm sure this joy goes both ways as these women remember their own kids or grandkids who used to have the same fashion sense.  My sweet girl always gives a spin and says thank you.  I'm proud that she has that kind of model confidence and I am not embarrassed by my seven year old fashionista. 

     Would I go to the grocery store and aggressively yell "HI!" to strangers?  No.  Would I wear a prom dress to walk at the park with my friends? No.  Am I totally mortified that my kids do crazy things like this all the time? No.  The last thing that I want is for my girls to feel is responsible for someone being embarrassed by their actions.  We can't control other people we can only control our reaction to them.  I don't need to put any shame on top of my children because they are going to get enough of that from the world around us. Support and love are the only things I want them to feel from this Momma, no matter how they are.  As their mom I will obviously try to correct bad behavior especially if it is unkind.  However, my kids' whole sense of being is perfect to me.  My feelings toward their awkward extraordinary actions is always adoration. Is my three old going to be chasing down grocery store patrons when she is 20?  Probably not.  Is my seven year old going to be wearing tiaras to her job everyday when she is grown?  Probably not. Am I still going to be just as proud and in awe of them?  YES!  Although when they are adults I will probably be really good at embarrassing them.  

Mom Fail vs Mom Full

 

     I hate the term "mom fail".  I hate these words more than any two other combinations of words on the planet.  As far as I am concerned there is no such thing as a  mom fail because moms are human and we all make mistakes.  Being a mom is such a demanding job that should never be seen as failing.  Most days we are just surviving.  Some days my husband will come and I will just yell "They are alive.  You're welcome."  This was especially during the summer months when I was severely outnumbered by my little angels.  Why are other people allowed to make mistakes without being labeled a failure ?  Why do moms get the pressure to keep everything together and when they don't it is a failure?  Why do we give grace to everyone except the moms who need it the most?

     I remember clearly the first time I heard one of my friends say Mom fail.  I was sitting at the park with my toddler and she had hers.  They were both playing lovely until all of sudden they weren't.  Toddlers do that a lot.  I gave my little girl a drink of water and of course the other toddler was irate that she was also dying of thirst and needed water immediately.  I watched my friend frantically search through her diaper bag only to discover that she had forgotten the sippy cup that day.  She looked at me and said "I forgot her water. Ugh!  Mom Fail."  I said "What?!?!"  I was so aghast by how she thought the lack of a sippy cup was a failure on her part.  I proceeded to list off all the things that she did bring.  Snacks, diapers, wipes, butt cream, extra clothes, a jacket, hair ties, baby tylenol, bandaids, and sunscreen but forgetting one sippy cup of water makes her a failure.  I wasn't hearing any of this ludicrousness.  She laughed at my rant but deep down I was very upset by this new phrase that had been added to my vocabulary.

     My girls forget things all the time.  I always joke "They would forget their heads if they weren't attached."  Every morning before school I remind them of their backpack, water bottles, folder, socks, shoes, homework and everything else that they need for a successful day at school.  No matter how many times I remind them of their things they sometimes forget one of the many items.  However, I would never tell my first grader that she failed because she forgot her water bottle for school.  I would never say "Seven Year Old Fail!" as she walked in the door after school.  Why is forgetting something a failure?  If my husband forgets the milk on the way home from work we never think to yell "Husband Fail."  Why are we so quick to say Mom Fail?  I would never dream of calling anyone else a failure.   Attaching the word fail to the people I work so hard to care for seems ridiculous.  I think it is equally as ridiculous to insinuate that any mom is failing.     

     To this day I have never heard anyone say Dad Fail, Sister Fail, Brother Fail, Mailman Fail, Cashier Fail, Kid Fail,  or any other failure as a person.  So why is the term "Mom Fail" so easily and frequently used.  Maybe it is a way to disarm people when they expect too much from moms.  Maybe it is a way to relieve some of the mom guilt  when we forget something while taking care for tiny humans.  Maybe it is because moms are held to a standard that is unattainable.  Whatever the reason, the term "mom  fail" is no longer in my vocabulary.  If my kids are alive I'm winning, not failing.  If my kids are kind I'm winning, not failing.  If my kids feel loved I'm winning, not failing.  Let's be kind to each other and ourselves.  From now on instead of saying "Mom Fail" let's say "Mom Full" because our brains are full of everything.  Playdates, snacks, dinners, schedules, homework, shopping lists, and so many other things.  So next time I drop one of thousands of balls I'm juggling I will gladly yell #Momfull!  Then maybe I could get a break...but probably not. 

Somethings Gotta Give

       I'm a mom.  That means I'm overworked, over demanded, and over stimulated.  As a result I've been gone from one of the things I love for a while.  I'm super excited to be writing again.  I have missed all my social media friends and all my free therapy from all us moms climbing the same mountain while raising these children.  Luckily my kids are still alive but just barely.  Quick breakdown of the reasons I was gone for so long include school, work, kids, and chaos.  In May my girls had so many projects due at the end of school which meant I had projects due for school.  So it was very difficult to find time to write.  In June I had tons of projects due for work.  So it was very difficult to find time to write.  In July I was traveling with my kids which made them extra needy.  So it was very difficult to find time to write. The moral of this hiatus story is that when you are a mom something's gotta give.  Unfortunately for me the "something" was my writing and social media parent groups.

     Most moms are spread too thin.  We all know that we have too many things to do in day and not enough time to do those things.  When I get more things added to my plate something that was already on my plate gets pushed off.  Unfortunately for me the things that I enjoy most for myself is what loses the battle for space.  It never happens all at once.  It is a slow process.  For me it all started in May with the end of the year school projects.  I had a third grader that needed to study and write a report about Jane Goodall.  Then I had to make her a Jane Goodall costume for her Wax Museum presentation.  My first thought was "I can skip the blog for one week.  There is too much to do right now to take time to write."  The next week my first grader needed to participate in a Kindy-500.  We live close to Indianapolis, IN so the Indianapolis 500 is very celebrated.  I was required to build a cardboard car for my sweet little six year old.  She of course requested a car that looked like a sheep so I glued 1,500 cotton balls onto this cardboard box to make it look like a sheep.  The end of school requires a lot of work for parents to make it over the finish line.

   After school let out I was so excited to start writing again.  Little did I know that the lack of schedule of summer would make it almost impossible.  I was now tending to all my children and had become a full time referee.  When any of my little minions were awake there was fighting.  From sun up to sun down I was constantly putting out fires and trying to come up with things for my girls to do so my girls weren't on top of each other.  During this transition into summer days the demands from my work and my husband's travel schedule caused my writing again to get pushed down the list.  I was exhausted all summer and not to mention poor from the amount of food my three angels were consuming. Even Costco was having a hard time keeping up with my children's snack demands during the hot summer days.  Stupidly I thought to myself  "The last month of summer would be better if we can just get into a routine then I can start writing and working out again."  The problem with my logic is the definition of summer is a lack of routine.  Late bedtimes, no alarms, no schedules makes it much more difficult to find a regular time to write.     

     School has finally started again and this house is taking a big sigh of relief.  I have some of my time back to myself to do things that fill my momma cup.  Even though we are so much busier with the demands of school, the strict schedules seem to add extra time for me to squeeze in some things that were lost in the chaos of summer.  The first day of school marked the first day I had worked out in three months.  The first day of school marked the first day I had written in three months.  The first day of school marked the first day I had done something for just me in three months.  My kids are also happier.  They missed their friends and their structure.  I love my crazy summers with my three girls and as they get older I am learning to cherish this time more.  However, we are all happy to get back to our normal life and routines.  And this Momma is very happy to be writing again.