I May Need to Borrow a Cape

If you have ever asked kids what they want to be when they grow up, invariably there’s always a skinned-kneed kid with unruly hair who boldly declares, “Superhero!” punctuated with a little kid air punch. All the other little kids are a bit more realistic with answers such as teacher, astronaut, princess (Grace Kelly did it) and even the creepy kid who wants to be an obstetrician. Adults usually smile, pat the superhero on the head and send them off to play, keeping an extra eye out for that obstetrics kid.

If accountants dressed like this, more kids would want to be one.

But good news all you little aspiring crime fighters! Superhero is on its way to a legitimate profession! Criminals tremble! Spandex manufacturers rejoice!

I wish I had known about this sooner. If I had, I totally wouldn’t have spent my college years studying useless things like political science and sociology and instead honed my skills of ninja moves, cat-like reflexes and a super low monotone voice. Four years of my life, wasted.

Some say it’s never too late and, with the exception of anyone over age 14 sporting a I Heart Justin Bieber shirt, I would have to agree. So I’ve come up with my own Superhero alter-ego.

Bad guys and social injustices beware!

I am – the DEbDUCER! I will Deduce (or DEbDUCE as the verb that I will coin and copyright) all characters of a nefarious nature from their whole to merely a fraction of themselves. I will use my skills of DEbDUCTION ™ to infiltrate their hiding places and thwart their schemes. I will also be handy at fractions.

My calling card will be this: 4/8 = 2 late/4 bad guys.

I will wear spanx under my gold spandex.

I can only save people when Tyler’s home from work. Or if I could get someone to watch Landon. Or if maybe I could get the carseat in my DEbDUCE-mobile. But then IT’S ON!

Who’s with me?

There's a Little Good Mom in Us All. Kind Of.

I made peach cobbler today.

From scratch.

With fresh peaches.

From my very own peach tree.

That I just found out I had last week.

Even though my backyard is about 30 square feet.

I never claimed to be especially observant.

It was delicious!

As is anything with dough and a high sugar content.

I did not wear an apron.

Mainly because I was wearing old, comfy pajamas.

At 4 o’clock in the afternoon.

Landon took my inattention as an opportunity to explore.

By taking everything out of our Lazy Susan.

And shoving fistfuls of raisins in his mouth.

Covered in pre-made bread crumbs and Swiss Miss.

Landon, not the raisins.

I should have made him wear an apron.

Good Mom

I have a confession to make. It’s a secret I’ve harbored for a little over a year now and would finally like it to be out in the open. Because we’re sharing here. Wait, we are sharing, right? We’re definitely sharing. Because the interwebs is place we come to share our hopes, fears and innermost secrets. With friends. And strangers. And creepy people.

I’ve realized this secret little by little over the last year but have largely kept it to myself (with the exception of others who may have already guessed). But I feel that it’s time to open myself up, break down the façade and embrace the truth. So, here’s the truth:

I am not a good mom.

Now before you go all obligatory complimentary on me (OMGosh! Na-huh! You are SUCH an awesome mom! If I were a one year-old I would TOTALLY want you as my mom!) just hear me out. What I mean is that I am not a good stereotypical mom. Of course I love my child and try my best to provide what is best for him, I often find myself falling short (waaaay short) of the “apron-wearing, educational craft-creating, lovingly reproving, completely losing herself in her children and finding her ultimate joy in being a mother” standard of a mom. The Good Mom. Whether that type of mom exists or not (and I posit that they do because I swear I know a couple) the fact is that is the picture of motherhood we subconsciously set as a model. And this is where my secret lies: I am not good at being a Good Mom.

Actually, no. Not even then.

I know it’s only been a little over a year into this motherhood thing but I have yet to feel enveloped in a sense of complete purpose. I love my son, I want him to grow up to be stalwart; a compassionate and productive member of society with integrity, resourcefulness and confidence. But I’m having a hard time figuring out how to sacrifice myself (like a Good Mom) without losing myself. I feel like I don’t fit very many of the mommy (specifically Mormon mommy) stereotypes that I’m not quite sure where I fit in. I don’t sew, I don’t play any instrument, I’m terrible at crafts of any sort, and you couldn’t pay me enough to scrapbook. I haven’t made Landon any flashcards, learning puppets or ISpy beanbags. We don’t go to any singing classes, gymnastics classes or mommy and me classes. I buy his babyfood (non-organic). I let him eat stuff off the floor (15 minute rule) and his “blankie” is not a handmade plush quilt but rather a stained burp cloth.

My interests and talents seem to run contrary to the Good Mom role. I wish I had more compatible talents, because I really admire people who do. But I would rather read about the fall of the Soviet Union than a book on how to teach your kid to do linear equations by the time he’s 3. I let Landon listen to Taking Back Sunday and Jay-Z (clean songs, at least) in the car because I can’t handle The Wiggles Sing Along. I can only keep this up for so long because soon he will become more aware of his surroundings. I’m sure his pre-school teacher would not be impressed by a little kid singing “If you feelin like a pimp son, go and brush your shoulders off. Ladies is pimps too, go and brush your shoulders off”. That would be an interesting parent-teacher conference.

So how do I reconcile sacrificing myself to be a Good Mom without letting my brain seep out of my ears? How do I find that inner Good Mom and put a twist on her to make her uniquely me? How do I raise a kid who likes good music but still knows how to pop and lock?

So many questions. A lifetime to figure it out.