Heather Hogan writes her Making It Work Mom blog to chronicle her stories of life in the fast lane. She is a working mom to three very busy children whom are navigating their way through tweenhood, boyhood, and elementary school. She is overworked and underpaid and loves every minute of it. She finds laughter especially paired with wine and good friends is always the best medicine. In between working and schlepping her children here and there Heather can be found posting instagram pics of her adorable children at makingitworkmom and making the occasional random tweet @makingitworkmom . And because there is never enough social media she is also trying to start up her facebook page.
The Mom I Was Meant To Be
Thirteen years ago my arms wrapped around my blossoming belly I would spend endless hours daydreaming about my future family and fantasizing about the mother I knew I would be (back then I had endless hours to do things like that). I was confident in my mothering abilities, self- doubt and second thinking had not worked its way into my repertoire yet. Thirteen years ago the possibilities were endless and my mothering skills had yet to be tested.
And now…well now is different.
Thirteen years ago…
I was sure my children would always wear cute clothes that I would find impossibly great deals on at fabulous stores. I couldn’t even imagine my children leaving the house with dirty faces, un-brushed teeth, and tangled hair.
I find myself triumphantly pulling a pair of shorts out of my daughter’s dresser and announcing “I found a clean pair!” like I have won the lottery. And more times than I would like to admit I have assured myself that teeth would be brushed doubly good at night to make up for the missed brushing in the morning as we rushed out the door. (Hangs head in shame.)
Thirteen years ago…
I knew I would be a working mom, a working mom who was super organized, who did her best while she was at work and then came home and was still at her best as a mother. I was the mom who could HAVE IT ALL.
I know that having it all is a myth. Not possible. I am still a working mom. And some days I am a good working mom and some days I am just barely making it. Doesn’t matter either way it has to be enough and I can’t beat myself up about it.
Thirteen year ago…
I knew that we would have family meals every night of yummy, healthy home cooked goodness. I would bake delicious treats that my children would gobble up (in moderate amounts of course) and I would do fun crafts with my children.
Cooking is more about a quick fix. There is no time for full meals, this month my children are lucky if I put their sandwich or buttered pasta on a real plate instead of a paper plate.
Chips Ahoy are staple in our pantry.
And well I never really liked crafting that much and lose interest in most projects pretty quickly.
Thirteen years ago…
I knew the mother I wanted to be before I actually was a mother. My expectations were high and I felt like mothering perfection was within my reach.
I dashed into the CVS this evening after a full day of work, a couple of hours spent sorting cheer uniforms for my daughters’ cheerleading teams, and on my way to the practice fields with my 6 year old. I was hot and sweaty. My hair was a frizzy mess and I was functioning on my third straight day of less than five hours sleep.
As I walked through the door, I hesitated, all of sudden conscious of my rather disheveled and harried appearance. I urged my youngest to hurry and pick out her treat (her before dinner treat) and set my purchases on the counter. The cashier eyed me with a slightly wary look. I half-heartedly tried to straighten my rather skewed ponytail and then flashed my brightest smile well aware, in that moment, of the smear of mascara beneath my left eye. I told myself that I would fake my happy mom persona. If I looked happy certainly my appearance would not be so important.
But then I realized, even as another part of my brain registered the fact that once again I had forgotten to buy deodorant for myself and would have to sneak my tween daughter’s for another day, that I actually didn’t have to fake it. That even though 13 years ago I could never imagine myself standing in the CVS disheveled and harried holding my 6 year olds hand while she chatters non-stop at my side and the 18 year old cashier looks at me with something close to pity in her eyes that this reality wasn’t so bad.
That I couldn’t imagine myself any other way
though I am not the mom I thought I would be I am the mom I was meant to be
The mom with a quick laugh
The mom who is a problem solver
The mom who does too much, but usually manages to get it all done
The mom who mentally files away this CVS story to be told later on to her mom friends who will appreciate it and relate to it, hopefully over a glass of wine, or beer, or some other cocktail
A mom who enjoys being a mom