Everybody tells you it’s a dream.
“You’re living the dream! Motherhood is such a dream!”
What they don’t say, is that it’s not always the kind of dream where Channing Tatum spoon feeds you endless amounts of mint chip ice cream, which has zero effect on your Victoria Secret model body. No, they neglect to tell you that sometimes it’s a straight up nightmare. One that feeds on every fear, and insecurity, and weakness you’ve ever had. The kind of dream that leaves you feeling weak and vulnerable for days.
How can something so incredibly wonderful also be so insanely challenging?
I guess that’s easy. A quick convo with your neighborhood superhero will reveal that all good things come with a price. That it takes every ounce of your abilities to change the world— to raise the future of the world.
But you’re not a superhero. You don’t have laser beam eyes, or telekinesis, or freeze ray guns. (Though, that last one would sure come in handy when the kids are mid- “fall off the chair for the hundredth time”, am I right?)
The only fire that comes out of your mouth is “If I have to tell you one more time..!”, and the only bad guys you chase away at night are the invisible monsters underneath the bed. They’re off saving the universe, while you’re trying to find a way to sneak veggies into your child’s food.
But maybe, that’s just it. Maybe that is exactly why you are a superhero.
I mean, it surely seems like you have super human strength when you walk out of the store with two kids on either hip and arms filled to the elbows with groceries. You can’t for the life of you open the pickle jar, but you can carry 50+ lbs. of tantrumming children out of Target— which is pretty damn impressive.
And it takes some sort of other-earthly patience to listen to the same song sung, same question asked, same scream screamed, all day long. Only a radioactive spider bite can explain how you manage to survive off of sandwich crust and zero sleep. And don’t even get me started on potty training— I’m pretty sure that Superman himself would rather battle Lex Luther any day of the week than have to clean human poop out of the carpets.
And sometimes our kids feel like our kryptonite— our Achilles heel, our own personal vortex of chaos and destruction. Right? I mean, there are days, weeks, months even, where they just drain every ounce of… everything.
But we really are superheroes, and it’s time we start believing that. You can get through this stage— whatever terrible, awful, losing your hair and your sanity, stage it may be— you can get through this. It’s not going to be teething, or breastfeeding, or the terrible twos that cue your demise. You’re a damn superwoman. You will conquer this phase— the nightmare will not last forever.
So next time you find yourself completely immobilized by the stress, the lack of energy, the anxiety, etc.— do yourself a favor and put yourself on time out in the bathroom for two minutes. Stare at yourself in the mirror— hollow shell, full-faced beauty, whatever you see that day— and repeat this mantra: I AM A SUPERHERO. I CAN AND I WILL CONQUER THIS. Repeat it until you feel it, mama.
Remember, you’ve got this.
It won’t last forever.
The days are long, but the years are short.
Whine now, Wine later.
[Inster snazzy catch phrase here]
You get the drift. You really are remarkable, and I hope you are able to see that these seemingly small actions you make every single day, make a huge difference.
Fly high, my sweet friends.