When we brought Aless for her one-year checkup back in December, there was a young mom in the waiting room that Pontilicious not so carefully referred to as “Super Mom.” Yeah. Whatever. Every mom deserves a little credit in my humble opinion. This mother, however, appeared to have the energy and talent of 10 moms combined. There with five kids all under the age of 8, it was as if she had GPS built into her mother radar. She knew exactly which kid was going to run off to where, who wanted what from the diaper bag before they even asked and was able to carry on a full, intelligent conversation with another mom sitting across from them while a thousand things were happening around her. This woman had her shit together. She really did deserve a Super Mom cape.
My husband wasn’t the only one who was impressed. But at the same time, I was also somewhat envious. I once felt like I was a Super Mom – able to take on mounds of work, lines of kids, pets…you name it, I could handle anything thrown my way. Today, it’s a whole other story. Most of the time I’m just an out of control, disorganized mess. I blame it on my age. Mothering an infant at 39 years old is exhausting. I don’t have the stamina or endless pool of zest I once had. I’m tired. Quite tired.
It irks me when I mention this to people and they try to offer solutions. Maybe you need to get more sleep. It could be lack of exercise. Try to nap when she does. Are you eating right? The reality is, I’m just tired. I’m not sick. I’m not depressed. I’m just one tired mother.
In recent months, I’ve come to realize that I’m no longer Super Mom. And I guess I’m okay with that. I accept that there are some things that will never get done and some things that will have to wait until my beautiful little girl is older. She is worth every ounce of fatigue and chaos that is my life on certain days.
