After I posted the Mother of the Year II post, I have to tell you, I felt immediate regret. Regret that I put so much out there, such personal information. I felt a little vulnerable and exposed. And even though there were definitely some genuine comical moments in hindsight, what happened today was a serious thing for me. A turning point in the way I view myself as a parent. And it would be so easy for anyone out there, whether they know me or not, to make judgments based on the sensitive and intensely personal information I provided. I seriously thought about deleting the post because I feared just that, the judgment.
But I thought about all of my mommy friends. The ones I can share the best and the worst with. The ones I can be completely honest with. The ones I can cry with and say, I made a mistake, thank you for listening, thank you for understanding, thank you for seeing the good mom in me even when I can't. I am lucky. I have people like that in my life. Lots of them. You know who you are.
But some women don't have that support system. They don't have someone there to laugh with and say "Yes!! I have been there! I have been that crazy woman in Wal-Mart that I swore I would never be! I feel your pain!" There are many women who feel completely alone in this mommy thing.
I envy those mom's who are confident in their decision making. The ones who always know they are doing what's best for their kids. The one's who accept they are doing the best they can and don't look back.
I am not that mom. I doubt. I worry. I always look back.
I used to give dirty looks to that woman in Wal-Mart, before I had babies of my own. I would look down at her from my high horse with disgust and condescension. I was so high up I could not see the weariness in her face, the dark circles from lack of sleep, the exhaustion of answering the same questions again and again, the frustration of saying the same thing over and over, in one ear and out the other. I see her so closely now. Because through the weariness, the dark circles, the exhaustion, the frustration, I can see the love. I can see that this is one tiny moment of many bigger moments. I can look at her with a reassuring smile and say "I have been there." She may have a different number of kids in her shopping cart, she may have a different hair style and a different house and a completely different life, but she is me. I am her. We are the same.
I didn't delete the post because it was a moment of honesty. A real life look into my life. And although it was my life, I know it is someone else's life. Someone may read it and see that it happens to all of us. Just like my friend Katie commented on the post, we all have moments of psycho in us. Being a mom is so freaking hard. As women, we can be so hard on one another, when we are really all in the same boat. We need to lean on each other. Judge each other less and support one another more.
We may handle things differently. But in the end, we love our kids the same. We have the same hopes and dreams for them. We are going through the same experience, but differently.
We are the same.
*The title refers to a phrase used by a good friend whenever he is apologizing for asking a personal question. "Don't mean to be all up in your Kool-Aid." Apparently this is a very common thing said in the inner city of Milwaukee. Dude, I am originally from Utah. The only Kool Aid I know of is the sugary drink we lived on in the summer. I am so uncool. Or un-Kool? Ha!