Author: Sierra Moses

We’ve all seen those memes on social media saying “What I thought I’d look like as a mom VS How I really look”. Sure, they’re funny. I’ve even shared them. However, I’ve noticed there started to be an impact on myself when I would see and share them. I continued to think of them as funny until I realized that it was reflecting how I felt as a failure at being a parent.

I strive for perfection. I always have… until I realized today that perfection isn’t possible. It took breaking down my strong walls and talking about it. I’ve masked my pent up pain with dark humor, being a drunken asshole, ignoring my thoughts, and any distractions all to keep up the perfect appearance and that I had it together. Anything to avoid what has been eating at me on the inside. Anything was better than admitting that I was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do with everything I had going on. I’ve blamed the fact that my makeup has to be dusted off from not using it on the fact that I’m tired or don’t have time. The truth is that healing from postpartum depression, with a NICU baby and older kids at home, doesn’t have a time frame, and healing from things that were traumatic doesn’t disappear because time went on. I thought I was strong, and I could handle it. I wasn’t strong until I clung to my boyfriend and mom to let it all out. I wasn’t strong until I was weak.

If you haven’t been able to clean your house, it’s okay. There will be a day that you can. If you haven’t been able to do your laundry, it’s okay. There will be a day you can. Powering through it is good, until it isn’t. Pushing yourself far past what you are capable of is more damaging than you realize. It took me completely breaking down and realizing what a strong support system I have to understand the concept of giving myself some slack. You deserve that slack. Not every person is going to think you’re a great parent, and just maybe that’s alright. I give my family every ounce of my being, and I think that makes me a pretty great partner, mother, and daughter. I’m still learning, but I won’t stop because it’s hard. I will continue to battle the things I didn’t have the ability to do before. I will continue to grow and improve as a person. Things DO get better. Things DO get easier. Cut yourself some slack.

Before kids, my house was pristine. You could eat off the floor if you wanted too, but you wouldn’t consider that from all the dishes at your disposal. All my dishes were always clean, dry, and in their proper place. Laundry wasn’t in a pile. It was clean, folded or hung, and put where it was supposed to go. Sure, bring your kids over. My floor is squeaky clean. Throwing a cup and bowl in the sink and walking away was comical to me. The basket of dirty clothes never got full.

Today, I haven’t done a thing. Oh, wait. I kept my toddler happy, fed, and she’s still alive. That’s a feat. Toddlers don’t remain occupied or happy like older kids. Even older kids get hungry every 4 minutes, need a drink or 7 after crossing the Sahara. Naps? Those aren’t nearly as helpful as they were when your crazy, supercharged, toddler was smaller. They are now shorter, and be sure you tip toe or they WILL wake up. Try getting a bigger kid down for a nap. Let me know how that works for ya.

I constantly worry when everyone else gets home from work and school if they will be upset on the days I didn’t do anything. I’m a mom. I NEVER go a whole day without doing a lot of different somethings. Today, I didn’t touch my laundry. Today, I didn’t do the dishes. Today, I did a lot of work. The dishes will be there later, and I haven’t found a laundry disappearing spell yet. (If there is one, pleeeeease tell me!) So, before you come over I will probably tell you how my house is a mess to look over it. I’ve cleaned my living room 5 times today. You wouldn’t be able to tell, but I did. Cut yourself some slack, mama. Unless your trash is touching your ceiling or your family is on the verge of joining a nudist colony because they don’t have anything to wear…. it’s okay.

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.

I’ll start this off by saying if you’re the parent that has it together this blog probably won’t be your daily dose of reading. Parenting, in any fashion, is the hardest job to have- Especially in the society we live in.

I’m a full time student, full time mom to a little girl that can demolish a room in 3 minutes flat, step mom to a 9 year old going on 19 (oh the attitudes) and a 4 year old who swears he is a T-Rex. I’m a partner, a chef, a maid, a doctor, a chauffeur, a monster slayer, and 99% of the time referee to the fight club that exists in my house. Despite being an experienced slayer of the monsters under the bed and in the closet, I’ve fought with the pile of laundry for over a year that never seems to go away. The sink fairy doesn’t visit my house, and dishes from dinner stare at me from the kitchen. And no, Karen. Most of the food my kids eat isn’t organic. Chicken nuggies are life. My socks haven’t actually matched in almost two years, and I’ve almost completely forgotten how to style my hair. Please don’t ask what that stain is on my shirt, because I don’t have a clue. Thanks for pointing out the half chewed up Cheerio in my hair, because I’m not sure how my toddler managed that.

Society puts a different type of pressure on moms. Don’t do this, make sure you do that…. the list is never ending. And the unwanted advice from every angle can make you question your parenting. Some evenings after bedtime I trade the coffee in for a stiff drink or glass of wine because the tantrums that day took a toll on me. In the midst of catching my breath and the first bit of freedom from “Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog”, “It’s Elmo’s woooorld”, and “PAW patrol, PAW patrol, we’ll be there on the double” I can’t help but wish they were awake for five more minutes. Five more minutes of laughter. Five more minutes of watching each of my kids learn something new with the excitement twinkling in their eyes. Motherhood is strange, but we’ve got this. On the days you don’t think you do, hide in the bathroom for 15 minutes, grab some takeout for dinner (the kids will be fine, I promise), bust open that Moscato and pour yourself a glass, or whatever self care you need, and get it together. Tomorrow is a new day.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton