I Quit

Y'all, I quit. I quit the race to see who will be the best parent.  My kid is not yet 2 and a half, so surely (SURELY) we've not passed the drop/add deadline. Please tell me where to fill out the proper forms. I will not be the most organized or the most patient or even the most likely to bring a snack on the day I actually signed up in black and white on the calendar to bring a snack. I will not make the cutest DIY pinterest birthday presents, or be the skinniest mom at the tennis court, or actually even go to the tennis court.

Take The Boy out of the running too. He will not be the best behaved, or best dressed, or the most monogrammed, or the most likely to eat something other than chicken nuggets. There are times (dare I say it?) that he may not even be the cutest. Whew. It seems so freeing to say all of that. Like when you know you're losing a foot race in grade school, and you shout out "I wasn't racing!" and duck over to the monkey bars once you realize you're in over your head.  Except that no one is actually winning this race. We're all breaking our necks trying to win, and NO ONE EVER WINS. Worst. Race. Ever.

Every week I talk with parents about their kids. Almost every week I hear mamas telling me that they don't feel like they've got their shit together. I do not ask them "do you have your shit together?" No. We're just talking about their kids, and they volunteer to me that they do not feel like they're doing it right. I'm not talking about crack heads and prostitutes. I'm talking about regular moms like me and you, who are raising beautiful, healthy, smart, talented, awesome kids, and are holding themselves to some high, unattainable standard of momhood. Sometimes it's young people without kids who feel this way, often it's teens. What are we teaching them? Why don't they feel like they're good enough? 

I think we are doing this to ourselves and doing this to each other. So today I'd like to take a stand. I want to let you all know that I quit. I love you, but I can't compete with you. What I need you to know is that I don't always get it right, and it's okay with me if you don't always get it right either. I would love it if you told me that sometimes you get caught in this trap too, and I would love it if you quit with me. Maybe you will and maybe you won't. It's scary putting this out there, because if you don't know what I'm talking about maybe you're already winning. Maybe I'm the only one that wants to quit, and I'm a little afraid that you'll think that means that I'm not doing this right. Part of me wants you to think that I'm doing this right. A bigger part of me wants you to know something else. 

You may have already guessed this about me, but lest you ever get confused...... I do not, indeed, have my shit together. 

Y'all, I look ugly when I cry. And I sweat and I stink when I go to the gym. I have a hard time admitting when I'm wrong. And I lose it with my kid sometimes. And I don't tell my husband enough how much I appreciate him. And sometimes I hear the wrong thing, the impatient and irritated thing, coming out of my mouth and I cannot stop it. And sometimes I rush The Boy along, and do not stop to look at the 900th wonderful little ant he's found on the driveway. And sometimes I tell him I am too busy to cuddle when he looks up at me with those cute little blue eyes and says "cudda wif me, mama!". And sometimes I make him wear the shirt that I want him to wear because people will think it is cuter than the shirt that he wants to wear. And sometimes I grit my teeth and tell him to COME HERE RIGHT NOW. And I lose my keys. A lot. And I don't always cook healthy meals, and even the unhealthy ones aren't all that delicious, and The Husband says all my chicken recipes taste the same. And I'm cranky when I haven't had enough sleep. And my house is usually a mess. And my car is always a mess. And I hardly ever mention Jesus on my blog. I could go on. I'm not perfect, but I'm good enough, and I'm learning that that can be good enough.

That feels vulnerable to admit.  I'd like for you to think I've got it all together, but that wouldn't be the truth. And what is together anyway? And does anyone actually have it all together? And who wants to be friends with those snobs in the first place? I'd rather be friends with the people who don't have it all together and aren't afraid of it.

Unless you're not. 

I'd rather together mean the people who are in it with me. The idea of supporting each other even when especially when we don't have it all together. 

 It's my tendency to keep up, so I'll have to remind myself that it doesn't matter who wins a game I'm not in. There will be times I forget, and I'll feel like I have something to prove, because plenty of people will still be in the race. Wouldn't it be nice if we all quit? If we all said "Hey guys, I'm no better than you. My family is no better than yours. There are times I get it right, and times I get it wrong and I won't judge you if you get it wrong on the time I get it right, so let's get all that out of the way and just work on accepting the private us instead of trying to improve the public image of us." Wow. That would be amazing to hear. And if I'd like to hear it, maybe you'd like to hear it. As scary as it is, that's what I offer you today, my friend. Feel free to offer it to anyone around you. Anyone want to quit with me? Let's hold hands and do it together.