Mother Idols

Do you have one?

I bet you do. Those other mother’s that you adore. You love their philosophy. Their manner. Their, calm on the outside but the kids are driving me bonkers on the inside just like you, state. Their kids.

I have a few. Actually I know lots and lots of mothers, but I only have a few idols. Some I know really well, others I admire from afar and wonder if they ever have those moments in their own houses when one kid is lying on the table, the other is refusing to eat the dinner you didn’t want to, but bothered to cook, and then the first one whips out a hand and sends a glass smashing over the floor and just for a minute you want to throw your own rip snorter of a tantrum and lie on the floor crying and kicking, but unlike you, they don’t.

I wonder if the positive, but not gushy, (gushy makes me want to vomit up the coffee I threw down on an empty stomach because breakfast for three is just pushing the envelope too far some mornings), talk takes place all the time. I wonder if that stern voice that means business, but is not being launched at a high pitched roar across the dinner table (hmmm, food is the defining factor in my house it seems), is always present. I wonder if they feel overwhelmed and frustrated and just ripped off about the bullshit myth of motherhood that Kleenex are portraying, and cry sometimes.

If they did, I think I would like them even more.

I know mothers who know which battles to fight, but never have to make that choice in public, because they were smart enough to pick the right ones at home first. I love them. I want to be them. I’m trying very hard.

My other mother idols are those who belong to the sisterhood, and let you belong too, no matter what. They don’t judge, or offer advice, or critique. They agree and they share their own horror stories of the evening where the bath got pooed in, the carpet got pooed on and the couch scored a wipe down too, and they weren’t even at home. And they laugh about it. Because hey what else can you do.

My other mother idols are those who have crazy kids and know their limits. The ones who say, yeah sorry but that restaurant at 6.30 with my kids, is not going to end well for anyone, come to my place at 4pm instead. Or, yes I love the sound of a plane ride, then a car ride, then a boat ride and 4 weeks on an exotic island, but I might jump out of the moving car on the way to the airport before we even get to that ‘holiday’ destination, so maybe we will wait 5 years before I even consider that.

And you know the other mother idol I love. The one that can ask for help. Who calls out. Who stands on the roof tops shouting “I have PND, get me some drugs goddamnit.” Who says, this sucks, I need a break, let me have your kids for a bit, and I’ll have yours. The mother who lets people who are offering help her, and ask those who are not to do their bit helping out the family.

You are the mother’s that I idolise and I thank you deeply for taking me along for the ride. But please, tap me on the shoulder if you see me staring for too long, there is probably a dinner on the floor I have to clean up anyway.

 

 

 



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