I Am Not My Mother

I am not my mother.



Not in a resentful, distain of possibly being her, I’m just not. As far back as I can remember she has been the epitome of motherly perfection. She never forgets a face, name or birthday. She even remembers to send cards for anniversaries and, graduations. She also sends Halloween, Easter, St. Patrick’s Day and Thanksgiving cards to each of her 17 grandchildren across the US- ON TIME. In 1983 my parents lived in Colorado Springs Colorado, there was a shuttle landing at the NASA site in Denver  just a few days after my birth and my parents decided to go. At that point my mom was able to fit back into her size 6 jeans- and still wears a sixe 6 at age 60. In the midst of one day in her life she can bake bread for church, drop of her weekly purchase of donations, bring me the shirts she irons every week for the boys, sew a dress for an upcoming event, manage the books for my fathers business, pick the strawberries, tomatoes, onions and zucchini she grew in her garden, mow the neighbors pasture with the tractor and oh- help birth a calf. She makes lists, eats a balanced meal at every meal, can craft anything, sew anything, bake anything, grow anything, raise anything and pretty much should wear a cape and mask.

 

When my husband and I got married in 2003, I had this standard in my mind of how I should be as a wife and mom. A do all, be all mother who can conquers everything in an orderly, organized fashion. For those who know me well enough are probably on the floor choking on my words knowing I am the most unorganized, distractible, spontaneous person you could probably meet. First of all I forget everything, so when buying cards for family members, I either loose them or forget to send them. In high school I somehow managed to wear a size 3 but by the end of my first term in college I was a size 10 and have fluctuated after 4 kids between a 14 down to an 8 back up to a 12 and have managed to work my way back down to a 10 since the birth of our last child, but thanksgiving is coming so I’m sure that will change. My daily life consist of me trying to clean my house but inevitable failing between multiple distractions and children so I end up with a half made poorly done pinterest project, 2 sheets of burnt cookies, dead plants in the back yard, a stack of filing for my husbands business that has been sitting there for weeks, a giant pile of half folded laundry that isn’t put away and 4 kids going to bed an hour past bed time after having Tostinos pizza for dinner…again. I am not my mother.

 

About halfway through the past 10 years I began to resent the fact that I had none of my mother’s talents. I was too unorganized, too distracted to be able to be like her. My mom, my husband, and my kids had never asked me to be those things. I was putting it on myself.

 

But why?

 

 If my family was accepting of who I was then why was I finding all the ways each day how I wasn’t the Martha Stewart, wife of the year, etsy store, organized list maker, pinterest project, organic food, perfectionist, homeschooling mom I wanted to be?

 

 

 

7 years ago I joined a national organization called MOPS- which stands for Moms of Preschoolers.  these women are truely amazing. We all come from different backgrounds, families and belief systems. There have been days where I didn't have time nor energy to go to a meeting, but once I got there I was so glad I did. We meet twice a month during the school year and enjoy adult conversation (a must when a parent of preschoolers), great food and various activities and speakers. Of course it’s like any mommy meeting at first. The feeling of not wanting the rest of them to know what a wholly mess you are, but by the end of the first month you’re comparing war stories about poopie pants and worst mom of the year award winning moments. It was within this group (and during a pregnancy) that I had a complete and utter meltdown. And yes, they still speak to me. At the time I was working, and still attempting to be the all perfect homemaker mom. A speaker was coming to talk about balance in our schedules. As she spoke it came about that she married a man with children and had not had them as babies. I in turn, {again pregnant and hormonal} began to sob uncontrollably. The cure I was seeking to my never-ending unstructured self was not to be found. As I went on my babbling rampage to these poor women, they all began to say the same thing I was. How they felt like they could do more, be more, to be better wives and moms. In that moment it dawned on me that I wasn’t alone. That maybe that one thing was what made us great made me great; the want and need to be better for our families. From a child’s perspective my mom was perfect. I now honestly believe that is the ultimate goal. I can’t be a perfect someone else. I can only be a perfect me; for my husband, my kids, my family and my friends. I know now my mom is somewhat of an exception to the rule, and I’m grateful for it, but I’m also grateful for being so unorganized that I forget to go to a meeting because I would rather watch a movie with my husband. Distractible enough to spend the whole day doing what I love in my kitchen instead of mopping floors. Spontaneous enough to build a fort in my livingroom and not fold the laundry. So for my fellow messy moms- here is a sure fire, last minute meal for those movies, fort, baking days;

 

 

Zucchini Casserole

8 cups sliced zucchini

1 egg, slightly beaten

1 cup mayo

1 cup Parmesan cheese

1 small onion, chopped

1 packages sliced and sautéed hotdogs or 1-2 packs crumbled bacon pieces

Salt & pepper to taste

Butter

Crushed up rice krispies or corn flakes

Bring a pot of water to boil, enough o sustain the amount of zucchini.  Drop in sliced zucchini and boil until just tender but not too long. Drain well.
2. In a large mixing bowl, combine egg, mayo, Parmesan cheese, onion, protien and salt & pepper. Mix well. Add drained zucchini and mix.
3. Butter a large pie plate and pour zucchini mix into pie plate. Melt butter and mix with desired topping and sprinkle over casserole.

4. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes to 1 hour until bubbly.

 

Note: for a lighter version use light mayo and omit topping.

 

In songs of Solomon 4:7 it says “You are all together beautiful my love, there is no flaw in you”.  God created us just as he wanted us to be. Not like another mom, but just us.

 

A Beautiful Mess.