Redefining Mother of the Year

I’ve said this before but it bears repeating: I’m 98% confident I’ll never win mother of the year.

I’ve covered a bunch of those reasons why in other posts (you can read those here and here and here), and if I had to add anything to those, it’d be that I’m too lazy and possibly unmotivated to work on the ridiculously high expectations that are put on mothers and because of that, I’ll never work my way onto the nominations list unless I get a whole lot of write in votes or maybe they change the nomination process to allow for mediocrity in which case, I’m all for that and it’s probably my only hope.

But the chance of that happening is pretty unlikely. Which is fine because if I were to win, it definitely would lower the bar for future winners and maybe ruin the award but then maybe even more people would have an opportunity so maybe it’s a good thing.

So let’s start a campaign. Jana for Mother of the Year. I’m filling campaign manager positions if you’re looking for something to do. The pay is low and I can’t provide benefits but I have a whole package of Mr. Sketch scented markers for you to use for my campaign posters and that’s way better than money.

Kidding aside, the thing that gets to me about this whole mother of the year mindset is that I don’t really know who qualifies.

I mean, sure, there are candidates. The moms who seem to have it all together, if their Facebook pages and blogs are truly indicative of their lives. Or celebrities who…well, let’s not get into that right now because it’s a soapbox issue for me. But if I’m being honest, when I see those impossibly perfect women, celebrity or not, with their enviable lives, I can’t help but wondering what they’re hiding. Seriously. There has to be something.

That kind of perfection has to be stressful. How do they cope? Because if I held myself to those ridiculously high standards, I’d develop a dangerously bad habit like a drug addiction or something else equally self-destructive that would put me front and center of an episode of Intervention.

But when I see those women, I do find myself wondering how they do manage to do everything and do it perfectly and look good while they do it, too. If I had half that drive and dedication to…well, anything, I’d be unstoppable. But I get distracted by Netflix or a good book or napping so I’ve got a long way to go.

However.

I’ve learned, from my interactions with many different kinds of mothers, that, like so many other things, it’s all about perspective. To some women, the fact that I bake my daughter’s birthday cake or cupcakes every year, the fact that we plan family activities, the fact that I volunteer every so often with her class or cheer squad, the fact that I have hobbies, the fact that I cook most nights, and the fact that I sometimes eek out a creative craft or two means that I am one of those overachieving moms. The mom who would win mother of the year.

Which I find hilarious because if you know me, you know to never put “Jana” and “overachiever” in the same sentence. You’d be more likely to to put “barely has her shit together” and “what the hell is she doing” in the same sentence.

But it leads to me to this.

Our measuring stick for what qualifies as a good parent or Mother Of The Year or whatever you want to call it needs to change. Because good parenting lives in the mundane. It lives in the small moments that we don’t share on Facebook or Instagram.

It lives when a mother gets up early on a Saturday to take her child to see a sunrise simply because the child wants to.

It lives when a mother does everything she can to make sure her kids know every day how much she loves them, even when she fights her own demons just to get out of bed.

It lives when a mother walks out of work every day, forgets about work, and focuses on herself and her family.

It lives when a mother attends recitals, games, and concerts because she knows that just showing up means everything to her kids.

It lives when a mother learns from her mistakes and works her ass off to do better the next time.

Being a good parent has absolutely nothing to do with how clean your house is, how delicious your chocolate chip cookies are, how many Pinterest worthy crafts you complete, or how many coordinated outfits you can plan for your family portraits. It has everything to do with how you treat your children, what you teach your children, the memories you create for your children, and how you make them feel. 

To paraphrase a great friend, it’s in the legacy we leave.

So, remember, no matter how bad of a parent you think you are because you’re not measuring up to ridiculous, arbitrary standards, you’re not.

You are a good parent.

We’re all parents of the year.

Because we’re doing the best we can.

And that’s the best thing we can give to our kids.

P.S. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a better parent. But don’t stress yourself out if you don’t live up to all of those “10 habits of perfectly happy moms” and “120 ways to be a more a patient mother” posts. Take away from them what you need to and move on. No one will ever be all of those. It’s impossible. And if someone tells you she is, she’s a fucking liar.

 

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