I'm Not SuperMom. Go Figure.

Friday turned out a bit bumpy. The morning was ok, but when my afternoon nap was interrupted after only 10 minutes I spent the rest of the day trapped in exhaustion. So for the next 5 hours I layed on the couch half-asleep while my children "took care of themselves."

My 2 oldest watched a marathon of My Little Pony (my least favorite Netflix show) while my toddler wandered around the kitchen pulling out every pan and tupperware and dancing on the table until I finally gave up plucking her down and pushing away the chairs (which took all of two attempts). Around 5pm my bleary-eyed children, noticing their rumbling bellies, bounced on my lifeless body complaining about hunger. This elicited some response from me like, "You guys are mature enough to cook your own dinner now. Don't burn anything... like the whole the house." Eager to prove their independence they disappeared into the pantry, returning to the couch moments later with cupfuls of dry Marshmallow Mateys and a large helping of brownies. I congratulated them on "eating their colors" and reminded them to feed the baby too. I'm not sure if the baby ate any of the brownie or just used it as a crayon to decorate her face, clothes, hair, legs, floor, chairs and walls. Yeah, not really my best day of motherhood (but not my worst either). And it's not like I was preoccupied. Nor did I lack ideas of better things to do with my adorable children. I just didn't have the energy to care. Thank you chemo.

Ok, so I've been anticipating this from the first mention of chemo. I watched my mom go through it multiple times and she and I often compared being on chemo to going through pregnancy. It lasts about as long, wipes you out and makes you nauseated (and often a handful of other similar challenges). If I wasn't on chemo there's an ok chance I might have opted for pregnancy #4, so I suppose I could be in this exhausted state one way or another. It's frustrating though.

By the time S was born I was feeling pretty lousy about my motherhood. We watched 8-10 hours of TV a day, ate 3 square meals of cereal and were lucky to bathe the kids once a week. During the past year I've managed to wean back our screen time (computer included) to under 2 hours a day, implemented a program to regulate meal/snack times and food choices, and had introduced daily chores (my children learned how to put away their own clean laundry!). I was on the UP and I was feeling a wee bit super-momish.

But exhaustion has returned. Maybe not everyday, but more often lately. I tease Anthony that his blog post about Service jinxed us. I've been tired ever since that post. It just seems to be the way of things. 2 steps forward, 2 steps back.

But my sister reminded me Friday night that we weren't raised by a SuperMom either. She recalls being a TV addict as a kid and I remember eating a LOT of cereal, often after refusing to eat dinner. From my motherhood vantage point I look back and imagine that my sisters and I were picky and whiny and our mom was tired and frustrated so she just let it go. But in my childhood memory I recall being supremely happy. My mom managed to instill us with love and joy regardless of all the cereal and VHS movies. And somehow my sisters and I turned out to be happy functional adults who watch little TV and enjoy healthy meals. My sister also reminded me that my kids are in a home where they are very much loved, they are not abused or neglected, and they are being taught good values. Despite all the parenting magazines recommendations, despite the super programs of the other supermoms in the neighborhood, despite the lack of soccer and dance classes, life goes on (hallelujah!). With just as much chance to turn out as normal as the next guy. No super heroes here... and it's fine. It's fine. Now back to bed.