Reflections on not being Super Woman (or even Super Mom) and being ok with that

I had this co-worker who I think it's safe to say is Super Woman. She was sought after for her knowledge on our floor, held a special educating role, ran the journal club, and somehow still had time to be an excellent mother of two adorable young children. She was fit, pulled together, and beautiful. And of course there is always my sister who is presently in the thick of a PhD, writing a chapter for a book, publishing articles, teaching socially insightful classes, and investing in a tight knit community of friends and family. These women are undeniably inspirational.

Then there are the super stay-at-home moms (many of which I stumble across in the blogging world). Somehow they manage to not only raise intelligent, wise, creative children in whom they are deeply invested, but also to garden all their own organic produce, write their own super healthy recipes, decorate their clean homes with ingenious thrift items, volunteer, have unbelievably deep conversations with their 4 year olds, keep up a hobby, dream up amazing play activities and vacations, and take care of all the needy (sick, pregnant, whatever) people that cross their path. Oh, and I forgot to mention that they do all this while appearing jovial and well rested. They must have a harness with which they can bind down time in order to achieve all that they do without becoming utterly exhausted. I have yet to find such a harness in my life.

But I am not writing this to complain about how I wish I were a Super Woman or a Super Mom, nor am I going to relate the steps I plan to take to achieve this goal. There are times I wonder what is wrong with me that I cannot boast these achievements or question why I can only seem to focus on one role while some can balance many. And of course I, too, want to raise intelligent, wise, and creative children and strive to make a rich environment for my family. Despite these goals, I do not seem to have a Super Mom style. Instead I am beginning to realize that I live in a simple, laid-back manner and that I have made a certain amount of peace with that. Some examples:

I reward myself for little things. For example, I am happy when I am able to wash and dry a complete load of dishes while Sharlotte is awake.

I spend time sitting on my daughter's floor just watching her play when she would be perfectly content without me present. She's occupied, I'm not saying a word, but I drink it in.

I weekly indulge in 'nursing naps,' snoozing an hour or two away peacefully with my little one hooked to my breast. I wouldn't trade this intimacy for the good books I could have read, the cleaner house, or the hobby that could have flourished.

My daughter's staples are healthy, fresh foods that are simple and don't require all the hoopla of puree, do this, do that and I've never whipped up impressive, large batches of baby food.

I deliberate over things. I could do things a lot faster if I weren't a triple checker and a second guesser. But because I am this way I feel confident when I finally make a decision. This was evident in my nursing practice also, hence the perpetually problem of getting out late.

I don’t have a formal exercise program. Instead, Sharlotte and I take leisurely walks and dance to Lady Gaga.

My nursery is not themed. In fact, my daughter sleeps in a pack and play and nearly everything in that room is a mismatched hand-me-down.

Phil's days off could mean accomplishing much. But usually they mean we all stroll slowly around town, sit quietly in the rays of the sun, and discuss what we should do for several hours until we realize the day is half gone. And it feels good that way.

I can't wear many hats like others can. For heaven's sake, I can't even balance two hats right now (career woman and mom). Why not? Because I like to put on this big, roomy hat I've chosen and feel out all the corners, colors and textures. It's enough for me. Maybe tomorrow I'll need something else, I'll push myself a little harder. But today I'll confess I have not figured out the magic equation that gives me more hours in a day, nor how to make my hours most visibly full, and yet I will peacefully invest in every moment in my own quiet way.

Shar eats zucchini while Phil naps during January picnic