I have a confession to make. I’m not the mom I thought I”d be.
I am not a bad mom–at least I don’t think I am. Others mention to me that I’m doing a great job and what good girls I’m raising. But I’m not the mom I pictured for myself.
What did I imagine? Most of my life, I have been more of a creative type–I love to write, create things, draw, and read. I adore 70’s music. Put up a disco ball and turn on some Bee Gees music, and I’m a very happy girl. I’ve always loved poetry open mike nights, funky coffee shops, old Volvos or Volkswagon Beetles, and lava lamps.
The mom I thought I’d be? I would wear long flowing tie dye or brightly colored skirts, wide leg pants, platform shoes, or macrame vests all the time. I’d have long hair I could put into braids. I’d buy foods at stores like Whole Foods, and my family would only eat organic and vegetarian items. I’d have a garden and my kids would help tend to it. Our vacations would entail driving a Winnebago around or staying in a cabin in the mountains. We’d live in a town where everyone was open-minded and accepting. I’d spend my days with the kids at the library or book stores and we’d read, draw, and create things all the time at home. I’d carry my kids around on my back in one of those kid-backpack things.
Instead, I stuck with normal and routine. I look like most of the moms in my suburban neighborhood. I drive an SUV. We live in a brick house. My kids eat out often; we try to eat real foods, but some weeks dinner is boxed cereal and milk. I can’t garden to save my life, and everything I plant never survives. Our vacations are spent at places like Disney World or Hilton Head Island. I wear sneakers, workout clothes, jeans and Old Navy shirts. I feel like I’m a cookie cutter of so many other moms.
I certainly love my life and our family, and my kids are growing up to be great kids (so far). I am blessed that I get to mother three amazing girls. But sometimes, I wish I was that mom I always thought I’d be.