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The supermom who juggles everything with elan - kids, home, husband, job, and a roaring social life. Don't we sometimes envy her? But do we really want to live her life?
The supermom who juggles everything with elan – kids, home, husband, job, and a roaring social life. Don’t we sometimes envy her? But do we really want to live her life?
We’ve all seen her. The woman who does it all in spite of the hardships. She is excelling at her work, has a beautiful spic n span home, her kids are well-behaved, she exercises every day, she gets her eyebrows done much before they run wild, and even her dog is perfectly potty trained. I would be a liar and a hypocrite if I said I don’t fancy that picture. Who wouldn’t want to have it all right?
In my life she happens to be a member of the extended family. So, I see her life updates quite often. She is my definition of a supermom. Two kids, a dog, a husband, a big house and a full-time demanding job. Yet, she looks amazing. She hasn’t gained any weight at all it seems and has actual time to take pictures of her kids and dog playing in the grass. I like and comment with a compliment often and hate my guts to be a liar.
I, on the other hand, have a very helpful MIL, a part-time servant, a part-time job, a not-so-naughty daughter and a husband. I never lost much weight post the delivery. What I did lose was my will to do just about anything. Salon visits became even rarer, and exercise was a thought that came and went swiftly every fortnight.
So, one night after I had finally managed to put my sweet little girl to bed I got thinking. I had been trying to be ‘her’ ever since I became a mom. It’s been four years and I am nowhere near that perfection. I was looking into the mirror, and the reflection was just horrible. It was so sad a moment that I didn’t want to accept my reality. I just wished it was all a nightmare, so that I could wake up six years in the past and try to do it all over again with that perfection that I had simmered in my head all these years.
But you know what? The world of perfection is a mean one. I think the idea of perfection is flawed primarily because there is no room for flaw. Isn’t that just sad? The idea of perfection in my head has been of that woman who has everything together. She looks good, has a career, has a nice home, is there for her kids and husband. But where does that woman stand when she needs to be herself? Does she even realize she has a self? Or has she immersed herself in tasks so much that only a befitting attack of depression could possibly jerk her out of that reality? I don’t know. Anything can be possible.
I stood unsmilingly doing my daily chores the next morning when my little one brought upon me the wisdom I needed the most. She looked up with those innocent eyes and said, “You know mumma, when I grow up, I want to be just like you”. I couldn’t believe it. I urgently felt the need to tell her to dream better.
“But, why like me baby? See, I’ve been making so many mistakes.”
“So? You only told me that we become better by learning from our mistakes.” Her eyes questioned genuinely.
Unexpectedly, I felt a huge wave of emotion. I had in fact done something right. I had taught my girl to be herself, and not to be afraid of making mistakes. She stood in front of me, waiting for my answer. And I stood there, looking into her eyes, finding the truth of life. I had no need to be a supermom. I had already achieved my dream of becoming a good mom. So, I smiled and said, “yes darling, thanks for remembering that, and thanks for reminding me too.”
Image source: shutterstock
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