It’s Mother’s Day. Happy Mother’s Day!
I have to admit it’s a strange holiday for me. It always has been. During my marriage Mother’s Day tended to revolve around my mother-in-law. It was a holiday she didn’t love sharing… My X wasn’t to passionate about providing a wonderful Mother’s Day experience for me either. I think even he was a bit exhausted by his own mothers need to be Queen of the Day. And let’s not forget- he really didn’t like me that much. I had an ugly memory pop in my head recently of a mother’s day about 12 years ago. Actually the Saturday night before. I had three small children under the age of six. In general I was exhausted. We got in a fight about my lack of ‘housekeeping skills.’ And he bitterly told me something I still think about to this day. More often than I should. ‘We should sell this house and buy a trailer. That’s the only kind of home you deserve. You aren’t cut out for this.’ Happy fucking mother’s day to me…
This weekend my oldest friend (not elderly-just friends since kindergarten) posted a picture of her kitchen on Facebook. And it wasn’t one of ‘those’ pictures of a ‘perfect’ kitchen. Not the kind of picture that makes me want to drive to that woman’s house, ring her doorbell and literally smack her in the face. Hard. It was a real picture! Of a (gasp) messy kitchen. With newspapers, binders, pictures, lists, clutter, dishes. You know. Stuff. Life. Real life. And it was spectacular. Bravo to her. She got comment after comment saying ‘Thank you! That’s just what I needed to see today.’ What a perfect celebration of motherhood.
For me allowing people in my home is almost the equivalent to letting them see me naked. It’s my home. My life. My personal space. And when it comes to opening the front door…I have issues. Especially with men. If you are a man in my house at this point in my life…I really must like you. More than that, I trust you. It’s not that I have any horrible secret to hide. My house is what I consider pretty normal for a single working mom with three kids. Or for any mom for that matter. It’s not perfect. I gave up perfect a long time ago. But I spent most of my marriage being made to feel ‘less’ because of my X’s disappoint in my homemaking skills.
Being a mom is messy. It’s hard. Kids are like little tiny tornados of clutter. That turn into teenagers. Who are big giant tornados of clutter. It’s impossible to keep up. At least every minute. Sometimes your just too tired. Or too busy. Or you just don’t give a shit. Sometimes other stuff is more important. Like watching TV. Or drinking a glass of wine. Or doing nothing.
I have had some women tell me some pretty impressive ‘things’ over the years. Things that stuck with me. And made me feel like a shitty wife and mother. Things that reinforced my X’s disappointment in me. Things that made me think maybe he was right. I remember years ago a woman telling me she couldn’t go to sleep at night until all of her son’s action figures were placed neatly on the shelf in her son’s room. Each figure holding his accessories and facing forward. And did I mention that her sons room looked like a bedroom from a model home? Not like something a real boy lived in. Definitely not like my boy’s room. I remember just nodding in agreement while thinking…’WTF are you talking about? You really do that?’ Another perfect mom told me that everything in her refrigerator had to be facing forward neatly at all times. Otherwise her whole day would be ruined! Ruined I tell you! And yet another mommy dearest who hand washed and dried all her daughter’s clothes to keep them looking ‘nice’ longer. She didn’t trust her own washer and dryer. I think she might have been a robot.
I’m tired of seeing pictures on Facebook that make it look like most of the people I know live in a Pottery Barn catalog. It exhausts me. It’s to perfect. And perfect makes me nervous… I don’t trust it. I think that life is messy. Chaotic. Busy. And that’s okay. Life is about what is happening in that kitchen. Not how nice it looks. Who cares about the clutter?! Seriously. Who fucking cares. This is not some competition ladies! If you are judging people by their how their kitchen looks- I don’t think we can be friends. Or at least I don’t want to be. Not anymore.
So cheers to my oldest friend! You win the award today for most awesome. Today I want to be wearing your shoes…👠
Divorce Shoes 