Before becoming a parent/step parent/custodial guardian there isn’t much thought regarding the impact of your choices, right? You like it, you wear it. You want a wild hairstyle, you make an appointment with your hair dresser. Of course we all wonder if others will approve, but what about the impact your choices have?
We all know drugs are bad, don’t get tore up and put your kids in the car, bathe daily, eat your veggies, the overall basics of being a good parent. But, what happens when you are suddenly judged on every single decision you make? I found myself struggling daily with my only comfort in snuggles and baggy tshirts with sweat pants every. single. day. No, no, I can’t wear that controversial band tee that I love so much with my daughter in Walmart. What if someone thinks I shouldn’t listen to that music or allow my kids to? I don’t want the judge-mental stares from the mom’s with their “Mom of the Year” trophies. I’m a good mom. I’ll show the world I focus solely on my kids. Well, I got news for you. That’s a crock of garbage.
Before having my daughter, I had piercings, showed off my tattoos, and leaving the house looking like I lived under a bridge without a mirror only happened when I was deathly ill. 90% of my piercings came out, my hair lived in a bun (When did I wash it last? Is it obvious this is dry shampoo? This remains a mystery), and properly fitting clothes were a thing of the past. I was terrified of being judged poorly as a mom because I took time from my kids to get ready doing my hair and makeup, having kept my piercings and gauges, and having “marked up” my skin. You know what? I dropped big money into the works of art on my skin and the jewelry in my body. Not to mention, tattoos and piercings don’t feel like the gentle lick of a unicorn that flew in riding a rainbow surrounded by shooting stars. I spent time and money finding the clothes hanging lifelessly in my closet collecting cobwebs. I am a mom, but I’m also my own person. My kids are loved, showered in affection and attention, and I can go to Walmart looking like a snack. (Although the appropriate term here is Happy Meal. I come with kids and toys.) What am I teaching the two little girls in my life? Let society tear you to shreds based on their assumptions? Lose all confidence and self-esteem you’ve fought so hard to keep? I’m their role model. I’m what they see, who they learn from, and children lead by example.
Take the time for yourself. Embrace it. Own it. An episode or two of cartoons while you fix yourself up to feel human again is okay. You are a mom. You are a boss. You CAN be both. Throw some war paint on, let your hair down, and get that outfit on you’ve been eyeing in your closet. Your kids see you. They see that mom with the trophy every time they look at you. Judging Jill in the produce section doesn’t leave the store with you after checking out.
KidsCoffee&Chaos 