It’s hard to believe but there are more blogs and websites dedicated to NOT being a Supermom than ones willing to claim the title.
Well here I am in the flesh. Supermom.
Like Clark Kent, you probably don’t recognize me in everyday life because of my glasses. Plus, every time I try to run away the kids yank my cape, reel me back in and choke me with it.
The stereotypical myth of a Supermom is that she is put together with her perfect children, arrives on time to every event with homemade organic gluten free cookies and quiet activities for her baby that never cries.
If you ever see a woman like this you should actually befriend her; she probably has good meds, a hidden flask or a box of wine in her purse.
Believe me, the perfect Supermom is just that….a myth.
I am called Supermom daily….mostly because I talk in the third person, but also because at some point in my week I may look like I actually have my act together.
Social media is great for perpetuating this myth! Once in a while I manage to remember to throw a frozen roast in the Crock pot and somehow end up with a home cooked meal that night. So I definitely post that baby! Yet, somehow don’t mention the amount of times we ate from a concession stand at my son’s baseball games that week. Hey they get fed. Don’t judge!
If I've learned nothing else from motherhood, I know there is truth to the old saying, “It takes a village.” I couldn't survive without mine. Behind every Supermom is a handful of other women helping and supporting each other. They not only run kids to school and activities, they bring an extra snack when you forgot yours. I worship the one Supermom out of fifteen that can actually remember sunblock! They run your kid a lunch while you’re at work when he’d rather die than eat the school lunch. Supermoms aren't just our in case of emergency contacts; they are our beautiful silent partners. These women pick up the pieces you didn't even know had fallen. No one woman has it all together all of the time, sometimes carrying one piece is all we can manage. At the end of the day it’s not about who gets the credit. Our kids won’t remember which mom took them to practice and which one thought of a snack to hold them over until their concession stand dinner; all they will remember is they are loved.
Isn't that the goal?
So I will gladly claim the Supermom title whenever someone wants to throw it at me, just know I have the power of my entire Supermom Village standing behind me….and I behind them.