Mom Unedited

By Yersinia

 Yesterday was one of my absolute worst moments as a mom. Oh, ok, it felt more like the whole week was a dismal failure.  I was restless and didn’t want to stay home every single day. I needed to go somewhere and do something as if I was trying to run away from whatever it is I didn’t quite want to face. This week, we went to the zoo, IKEA, Chinatown and the thrift shop. All this culminated on a really worn out mama by Friday, in which I proceeded to watch Enchanted with my daughter and requested hubby to grab take out from KFC, the  worst food we can possibly ever put on our table. But I didn’t care. My earlier success the past week with all the caffeine-free and gluten-free diet came to a grinding halt. 

Of course, I cringe as I type this confessional for the whole world to see.  Ok, for the couple of hundred of you who subscribe and for the other lurkers who I warmly welcome too. This blog, after all, is supposedly about our journey towards making a Nourishing Home for our family. I am tempted to emphasize how our TV is turned off all day long 99% of the time, and that I cook whole and real foods from scratch more than my mom would have ever predicted for me. And that we limit going out during the week and strive to create a slow and creative rhythm for our little one. Yes, I have to mention all these things because truth be told I am an insecure wreck who has still yet to figure out how to find my worth apart from what I do consistently. And darn it, I’m a good mom most of the time.

It’s also worth noting that I fluctuate between the kinds of blogs I read depending on how I am feeling. Right now, I am of course drawn to Her Bad Mother type of blogs, being that these down-right honest moms make me feel so much better about myself. I’m laying down momentarily my pursuit of Revolutionary Rightness and just letting myself unravel a little bit. I’m tired of reading my favorite blogs on simple and natural living and such, which just makes me feel like a pathetic loser for wanting, just once, to be like everyone else. To eat and not care how my food was sustainably raised. To shop away my blues (albeit at a thrift store). To ignore what I’ve read and learned about child development and hand over my child to a childcare professional. To be busy and crazy and care about junk and non-essentials like everyone else. I just want to feel normal sometimes. Despite appearances, I too sometimes want to fit in. 

Until of course fitting in takes a toll on me and I am back to wanting so desperately to honor who I am, my ideals, my quirks and all that makes me an outsider, a square peg in a round hole. I really don’t care to be special, but I just really truly deeply desire to be accepted. 

And I don’t know how to make that happen without sacrificing my way of being.

And then I wonder.  If this is not possible, then what kind of world am I raising my daughter to live in? 

And what kind of mother am I when I fail to follow through on the values and life philosophies I say I want to live by? 

Is there hope for us? 

Hope. What the hell is hope? Do I hope for better things? Or is it simply a matter of deliberately making every choice count? Or both?

Because, frankly, this intentional revolutionary living can get quite tiring. And freakin’ lonesome. 

And I suspect, that two words, vital and life-giving words, are missing from my vocabulary and my entire life and my experience of the universe right now that might make all the difference in the world: Community and Love.

That maybe, in the end, that is All there Is. 

Or maybe I just think too darn much.

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P.S. It’s official. I’m a freelance writer and a starving one at that. Kindly check out my first article on Associated Content please? And if you are so inclined, to share the link on your facebook and twitter followers? I would be most thankful. 

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