Rex, Rocky, Vivi, and Billy                                                                            

Is Everyone Really Doing It Better?

Is Everyone Really Doing It Better?

I wanna get serious here for just 30 seconds.  I’ve gotten myself into a slump lately.  An “everything I do sucks, I’m not a fun mom, everyone’s doing it better than me” slump.  I remember during my postpartumy phase with Vivi, I’d sometimes cry to my aunts that Vivi deserved a mom who could French braid (yes, I really said that).  I loved her so much and doubted myself so profoundly that I thought she deserved a better mom than I was or ever would be. 

Don't I appear to be adjusting well?  Nope, scared shitless about braiding.

Don't I appear to be adjusting well?  Nope, scared shitless about braiding.

That shit is heavy, I know, but that’s what happened.  There must be at least a handful of moms out there who had that same reaction to having their first baby.

My lack of confidence these days is a little less dramatic.  Deep down I know that I’m all my kids need, but I have two working eye balls.  I see how much fun all your kids are having making those handprint turkeys, your gumdrop gingerbread houses, and those smelly vinegar eggs thanks to Facebook and Instagram.  My farts and craps table is pathetic and a mess and the project of the day is generally “free paint”.  There’s no structure.  Not because I’m all, “Oh no, we don’t believe in structure and keeping our children’s imagination shackled and chained.”  No, it’s way simpler than that; I’m not that creative.  I’m just not an effortlessly crafty mom.  Now Samm is, but she is a crafter by nature.  It’s a gift, really.  She makes everything cool and aesthetically pleasing. 

Oh I have craft spurts, don’t get me wrong.  I have been known to whip up some homemade Care Bear costumes,

My one and only crafty claim to fame

My one and only crafty claim to fame

but when the fuck did this turn into a post about being crafty?  This is about me and my slumpy feelings.  I’m making a point here about why I irrationally make myself feel bad about things that don’t come naturally to me, especially when I think they’re things that happen to be a big part of childhood.  I mean crafting=childhood cornerstone, right?  All I remember about mine right now is 15 stressful/disappointing minutes of Spinart.

Don’t we just all want the best for our kids?  We want to see them enjoying life and being happy.  I think when I see other moms and kids doing things I imagine Billy and Vivi would enjoy, but I’m not entirely capable of doing or able to do because of some time constraint or just because I’m fucking exhausted, I feel like a loser mom who hasn’t figured out how to do it all, do it well and make it fun.  Kiss my run on sentence ass.  Listen it’s not like we never do anything fun, but FB and Insta just have a way of making you feel incompetent and boring.  I do enjoy the Snapchat because it’s way more instant than the Instagram - those the’s are no accident.  It’s real time and I get to see that Vivi and Billy aren’t the only ones eating cheerios off the floor and being all around insane. 

Even so, I will still pick up on the smallest of details or something in the background.  Two of my friends both had their kids in bunny ears during their family Easter egg hunt.  That’s really fucking cute.  Why don’t I ever have cute ideas like that?!  Or, Wow she let’s the kids create a disaster zone and somehow the house still looks cute because it’s all adorably decorated and I’m staring at a thousand figurines amongst multiple eyes sores in my fixer upper.  I bet you’re thinking, “Oh Wahhh, Brittany.  You need to fix up your house and buy cute head gear.  Poor you.”  And I’d agree with you, except it’s not just that.  It’s picture after picture, one advice column after another.  All these cool things other people automatically inject into their children’s day and it feels overwhelming sometimes.  

I guess it’s only human to feel this way because we’re always trying to improve something and make life better.  But the excessive comparing to others.  That is a fucking unproductive time waster for me.  Are my kids laughing and healthy and feeling the love?  Isn’t that good enough?  Do I really want to pass down my dysfunctional “someone is always doing it better” gene?  I mean, maybe, a little ‘cause “you gotta stay hungry” or some motivational shit like that.  Maybe modeling a little acceptance for my kids isn’t so bad either.  Like the whole “I’m too busy working on my own grass to notice if yours is greener” mantra.  Your social media lawn might be looking fluorescent green, but perfuckingchance we’re all just weeding through our own crabgrass? 

Maybe I’ll start looking at my grams and snaps through someone else’s eyes, so I can remind myself of how pretty damn lucky I am - that my crabgrass ain’t so crabby.  My Christmas art may never look better than a bag of shit, but no one loves my kids better than me and really, what the fuck else matters?  Oh, ya know what, I think I just homerunned my way out of this slump with that.  I’ll let you know how it goes.   

They are eating chips and yes, I am drinking wine. But seriously, this day was awesome and they had a blast, so double middle fingers to the slumpies.

They are eating chips and yes, I am drinking wine. But seriously, this day was awesome and they had a blast, so double middle fingers to the slumpies.

Everything Is Going Swimmingly

Everything Is Going Swimmingly

A Letter to Rex's Future Preschool Teacher

A Letter to Rex's Future Preschool Teacher