Martha Stewart Had a Nanny...

I've been thinking about something lately. Why do women have to have it all? Better yet, why do we have to have it all, and act like it is easy? It's not easy. Everyone knows that. So why do we extend our perfectly manicured hands in a wave to our neighbors with a lip glossed smile as if to say, "Here I am, totally together!" Why is that normal? It's not normal.

Take the other day for example. I showed up to work wearing a skirt that was too small, and unwashed hair slicked back in a ponytail (headband hopefully hiding the grease). Marin woke up early that morning, and I'd literally rather look a mess in order to get 15 uninterrupted minutes with her, than have a warm shower. As I was racing to daycare I was thinking about all I had to get done at work that day, and then as soon as I dropped her off I wanted to call in sick. When I actually got to work, all I could think about was Marin, and when I got home that night the next days work was never far from my mind. Meanwhile, I'm not as helpful to Jason as I'd like to be with the house, my friendships are sitting fourth string on the last season of the game, my boss is asking more and more of me, my life is in boxes at some storage shed across town, my house is literally ripped down to the studs and Marin is growing up before my eyes.

I told Jason the other day that I feel like I have my hands in all these different pots, and they are all overcooked and boiling over. I'm spread so thin, and not feeling adequate in any area. What gives? Some days I feel like a rope that is rapidly unraveling at both ends. When the ends meet in the middle what will be left of me?

I know I'm not alone in this. Other moms have half admitted they feel the same when I have brought it up to them. So why is there so much stress on being perfect? Why can't we be heroes for being good enough? For trying as hard as we can. You don't win the bake sale for bakery bought cookies because you "tried". So why don't we just say, "I'm a mom. I'm exhausted. I'm totally spent. My clothes don't always fit right, and my hair isn't always washed. I may not be the super star at work that I was before, because guess what- I'm late to the meeting because I was washing pureed peas off my skirt. I haven't returned your call about last weekend because I honestly haven't had a minute to even locate my phone. But guess what. I love my baby. I love being a mom. I'm not perfect. I don't even have the time to try and be perfect. And this is who I am." I think there is honor in that.

You know the mom with the freshly waxed car... and eyebrows.... and the perfectly shiny hair? Three days after birth, she's back in her skinny jeans. You want to hate her. Then you find out that she also volunteers at the nursing home, knits her kids a new scarf each winter, and just made partner. To top it off she's the nicest person you ever met. How does she do it? My mom was this mom. My friend Erica is this mom. My friend Molly will be this mom one day.

I am a big fan of the team. The "momtourage". Yes, Martha Stewart makes a perfect roast and serves it at a beautifully decorated table topped with a homemade centerpiece from her garden. But guess what. Martha Stewart had a nanny. And, she went to jail. :)

Sure, Marin eats homemade organic food. But Jason made the last batch. And yes, Marin will have a handmade Halloween costume, but her Auntie Molly is making it for her. I believe a woman is only as good as the sum of her parts. So its fine by me if Marin learns humility from her Grandpa and a sense of humor from her Auntie Mika. She can learn grammar from Grandma, and all about sports from her Pappy. Daddy will make her feel confident and beautiful and Auntie Molly can teach her math. Aunt Vee can teach her about the farm, and Nana can teach her how to spot a good sale. Uncle Jake can teach her how to sing, and Aunt Katy can show her how to balance her checkbook. Aunt Lindsay can teach her the meaning of "Oskee Wow Wow!" Maybe she'll see that I can't do it all. And that's just fine by me. I can teach her, that as long as you try your hardest, you'll always be your best.

Now excuse me while I proudly slip into yesterday's t-shirt.