where wildly different is perfectly normal
No more Supermom
No more Supermom

No more Supermom

Supermom is tired. I never really bought into the whole Supermom thing in the first place. I’m certainly not a “Super Mom”, I’m barely a “Mediocre Mom” most days. I don’t take the boys all over the place for enrichment all the time, we tend to stay close to home and do stuff here. But I tend to try to be SuperWoman/Mom. “See, I can be a SAHM and still teach flute lessons and play the occasional gig and run the entire household and be a wife/lover/friend to my husband and keep up on correspondence and and and… You get the picture. I do a pretty good job keeping all the plates spinning and as long as the plates for my family stay up, I’m fine with any of the others taking a tumble. That said, I’m pretty upset that I had to pull out of Mahlerfest this week. It’s not a paid gig, though there is an incredible reception at the end, but I don’t get many gigs, and certainly not of this caliber. I’m just too sick. This strep is knocking me on my butt. Why? Because I don’t know how to slow down! It’s a character flaw. In college I had mono when I auditioned for marching band drum major. So yesterday, after finding out I had had strep, I went to the grocery store (needed food and meds), did umpteen loads of laundry, played with the boys, cooked dinner (!), worked on a scrapbook layout, tidied up the house, bathed the boys and put them to bed. WTF? No wonder I feel like crap today. So I called the principal flute and bailed from Mahlerfest. I’m sick, my sitter is sick, you know by the end of the week my monsters will be sick… So that plate crashed to the ground. And as disappointed as I am, I’m ok with that. If it wasn’t that plate, it would have been the boys’ plates or my sanity.

My boys. They crack me up. They are so obviously Colorado natives, so unlike their Midwest parents. Neither one will wear socks for love or money. I can get socks on the little one, but I’ll find them littered about the house. I finally had to slap down the law: if there’s snow on the ground, socks are on your feet. Otherwise, they’re both galavanting about with nekkid toes with four inches of snow out. Not that it has snowed here anytime lately… Master Thespian would wear sandals every day of the year if I’d let him. He put on shorts today…it was only 45 degrees out. Happy Boy learned to climb the stairs before he could walk; it’ll be a fourteener before ya know it. I often look at them and wonder how I got sons like these. I’m a lucky woman.

And now, there is Peanut Butter Panic ice cream waiting for me, brought in by my loving husband, who is now home from a meeting and knows that nothing cheers me up and relaxes my soul like Blue Bunny ice cream. 🙂