I Didn't Bake Any Bread Today

I've been reading a lot of mama blogs lately and am consistently amazed by how motivated and energetic my fellow mamas of the world are in their daily lives. They appear to engage in hands-on mothering while crafting, reading, publishing, preserving, cooking and socializing. These are amazing women that inspire me to greater heights as a mother and an individual.

So how come I often walk away from these blogs feeling inadequate or sub par? Is it because I don't bake bread each morning? Is it because fabric that I keep meaning to sew into pillows sits placidly on my couch like crumpled little cat nests? Is it because I tend to fall asleep every time I start reading a parenting book? Is it because I simply can't hack it enough to be super crafty with one child while all these women do it with three and four kids?

In my heart of hearts, I know that I am a good mom. In fact, I think I'm better than good. I'm a really good mom. I am thoughtful, conscious and creative when it comes to the challenges of parenting a fifteen month old. But I still feel less than superb when I look back on each day. And this is just plain silly.

I'm very aware that nobody is perfect. And I've spent countless years working on overcoming my woefully inherited perfectionist gene. But it's still tough to challenge that feeling of inadequacy when standing in admiration of others. Especially others who seem to effortlessly and seamlessly master what you struggle with day to day.

I guess I wish it was more acceptable to simply announce that some days in this mothering gig are really hard. They frankly suck. And the thought of baking bread or mending my toddler's pants while she's teething with a vengeance is beyond absurd. Most of my days revolve around Stella's needs and her desires. Without a doubt, she's the most challenging coworker I've ever encountered, and I often find myself perched on top of a pile of laundry that's been sitting in my living room for three days reading Curious George to a clingy kid.

Having said all this, I wouldn't trade these long days for anything. We have more good days than bad. And I say this genuinely rather than trying to find the silver lining. In fact, there really isn't any truly bad stuff. It's just hard stuff. So the thought of heaping more expectations on myself makes me giggle with delirium.

I realize most of the mama blogs I'm reading are written by women with children who have passed this intense phase of toddlerhood. As my friend Anne says, our job as mothers of toddlers is basically to act as a bodyguard - both physical and emotional - to this little being twenty four hours a day for about three years. I also recognize that these blogging mamas also have really tough days. Mamas everywhere assure me that things get easier. That there will be time for baking and sewing and all that crafty goodness. I have to trust them. And I have to forgive myself for letting that laundry pile sit another day because I frankly need to just linger on the couch with my husband, watch a mediocre movie as the peanut sleeps and fall asleep before 9pm.

I wish I could tackle more. But for now, I simply look forward to the days when Stella and I can embark on baking and crafting adventures together, and I focus on showing more compassion for myself for simply being a really good mom.