Monday, December 10, 2007

She's Out There, Somewhere...

that perfect-got-it-all-together-never-a-ruffled-feather mom. I just know it. She can't possibly just be a figure of my imagination, because, that would mean I'm driving myself crazy comparing myself to someone who doesn't exist. And I'm NOT crazy.

Well, not at the moment, anyway. Check with me again tomorrow.

There are times, however, when I honestly feel like I'm on some bad episode of Candid Camera and my kids are in cahoots with Allen Funt (yes, I know he's dead). It's just that, at no time, does anyone jump out from behind a pile of laundry and yell, "Smile! You're on Candid Camera!" and relieve me of this bad joke. Now, of course, if anyone did jump out at me from behind a pile of laundry, I would have a hard time deciding whether to laugh or cry at the realization that my life was a put-on.

This decision coming after I hide the body of the idiot who jumped out at me, of course.

But she's out there. I can feel it. Or, should I say, I can feel her, breathing down my neck, pushing on my back, stepping on my heels. She's a bitch unfriendly sort, this one. Oh, she's always smiling, always freshly showered, always crisply dressed, always waving "Hello", smiling sweetly and offering a fresh baked muffin to those poor, less organized, less efficient souls like me. But, deep down, she's vicious, cunning, and OUT TO WIN!

The only thing is, I don't know exactly who she is because, I could swear, that everyone - yes, EVERYONE - has their act together more so than I. The knowledge of this fact haunts my dreams at night. Oh, you are laughing at me right now, I know. You're thinking, "Sister, you are soooo not alone on this" but, really now, do you expect me to believe that all of you reading this find yourself snapping at your kids or allowing dust bunnies to multiply at an amazing rate of speed or getting grossly behind in toilet-brush duties or ordering pizza for dinner twice in one week or wearing your husband's socks because all of yours are dirty or putting on un-ironed pants because Heaven only knows WHERE the damn iron is?!?!

Sorry, not buying it. Because, if that were true - if all of you were just like me - then I would have to take a long, deep, honest look at myself and realize that I am NORMAL and finally ACCEPT myself as I am. As God made me. And once I do that, then what?

Cut myself a little slack?
Breathe easier?
Laugh at the day-to-day antics of daily life?

Yeah, right! *snort* No, no. I'm just going to keep on keeping on. They say the quickest trip to unhappiness is comparing yourself to others. And, the good Lord knows, if I'm going on any trip at all with my kids, I want it to be quick!

Yeah, she's out there, alright and I'm going to find her. I'll take a notepad and pen with me so I can write down all her handy home organizing and perfect parenting tips. I'll follow her around for the day, watching how she expertly cleans up grape juice from the carpet, settles disputes between the children with a smile, folds the laundry into perfectly squared piles and for dinner serves up a tasty, new recipe she created herself. And when all is said and done, I will smile, thank her for generously allowing me to learn from her and then,

I'm going to!

Because, after all, do any of us need this woman in our lives?


Madame Queen said...

This was a really, absolutely wonderful post. I feel the same way, so often. I WANT to be that woman, yet somehow it always eludes me. You should SEE the dust bunnies under my bed.

BTW, if someone jumped out from behind my laundry, I'd tell him to get his hiney busy helping me fold!!

Laurel said...

Great post, and I'm laughing right along with you. I am so with you sister. My comment would be longer, but I have to go try to remedy a major melt-down with Griff. Case in point, right?

Madame Queen said...

Saw your comment on my blog! It made me laugh. These jeans make your butt look awesome. Guess there's no way to suck in your butt, is there?