Supermom can’t be super everything

Supermom turned mom

Last summer I separated from my husband and on August 1, 2009 I moved into my own place with the kids. I have full custody but he gets them every other weekend, so pretty much on this date I threw on a supermom cape and hoped for the best (the cape of course being figurative—more a mental support prop to make me stronger than I have ever been). And then with one arm out in a supermom stance, I began the journey of my life.

A typical day chez Julia: kids wake up, I make them breakfast, I make their lunches, I change Max’s poopy diaper, yuck—I give him a bath, I get dressed, I yell at the girls to get dressed, Brooke always can’t find what she wants, “Mom, do the laundry!,” Max wants to wear “jammies” to daycare, “Don’t forgot to brush your teeth! Max, did you poo again?,” I drive them to school and daycare, once back in my minivan, that needs new brakes, and I have to change the snow tires, I check messages on my blackberry—three are urgent so I deal with them as I drive, I get to work and I have 20 messages on my phone, the presentation I have to prepare is waiting patiently for me, my colleague needs my input, I finish my day at 5, running out the door to pick up Max by 5:15, I am late, call the daycare, did I eat lunch today?, pick up Max, stop at drycleaners, get the girls, they don’t want to leave, Mya and Brooke start fighting over who pushed who, I get home and throw knapsacks in the corner, take off Max’s outdoor clothes (good I don’t need to put pjs on him, he has them on already), I pour myself a glass of wine (yes, it’s necessary), open up my mail, I apparently paid the wrong hydro bill, I need to go get  a new license with picture (when the heck am I going to do that?) and I begin making dinner…….you get the idea.

So there is that. Then recently when I heard myself telling my children to leverage the fact that they have legs and arms to pick up their mess, and that if they could just execute my request to brush their teeth, and to strategize better in the morning, I knew I needed help!!!! My two worlds were colliding—work and home life were about to come to a head and if I didn’t do something soon, the outcome could be disastrous.

So I finally succumbed. Solution: hire a part-time nanny. A few times a week she is to pick up my kids from school, feed them, play with them, and do homework and light cleaning when necessary. As I wrote that ad a wave of serenity washed over me.

“Julia, you can’t be super everything,” my boss said to me recently. And she’s right. Sometimes I can just be a mom without the super. And it’s ok.

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