I am Supermom, hear me roar
I am rocking this homemaker thing.
In the past week, I have purged our playroom, organized my youngest child‘s room down to the Barbie shoes, delivered a truckload of toys to the Salvation Army, got my oldest child to her three orthodontist appointments AND finally took her to the doctor to discuss her shinsplints, mailed back my mother’s spare key that I accidentally took, remembered to wish my brother a happy birthday (at 9pm the night of his birthday, but still), charged my way through my book in time for book club, paid the MasterCard bill, and remembered to pick up all my children from every sundry activity and birthday party that rules their world.
Today alone, I managed to make their lunches, get them to school in proper rain gear, indoor shoes safely ensconced in their bags, had a workout, talked a friend through a crisis, joined Twitter, dealt with our broken window blinds, made healthy muffins, picked children and their play dates up from school in timely fashion, and have dinner marinating.
Children, have no fear; Supermom is here.
I am giddy with power. Confounded by my usefulness. Loving my resourceful self. Where can I buy that snazzy red and blue suit? I’m ready to fly. It only took eleven years.
My recent domestic roll (as in, I’m on a roll) comes not a moment too soon. Domesticity, as I wrote about in an earlier post (Motherhood: my unlikely career) is not my natural calling. I prefer to get paid for my blood, sweat and tears, and the minutia of homemaking is not fulfilling.
I started this blog to talk about other things that weigh on me or interest me, like sex, drugs and rock and roll for instance. However in the process of homemaking it is essays on homemaking that I write in my mind. I figure I will get the motherhood topics off my chest, and then move on to bigger and better topics. Hang on, that sounds familiar – wasn’t that my life plan, for that matter?
Yet here I am, eleven years later, still stuck on the homemaker aspect, but with a subtle difference: by simply acknowledging my accidental role, I somehow own it. Call it the power of the pen, or whatever. But writing about it absolutely makes me feel better.
If you, too, find yourself curiously at home raising your children, and are wondering about your worth since you make substantially less than minimum wage, I recommend writing down every minuscule task, no matter how mundane, for an entire week. Keep in mind you will need either a very long piece of paper, or will have to use tape to piece together a list that will surely be taller than you are. Refer to this list, and be proud of your achievements, even if they are remarkably different from what you had imagined. I think this is what they call living in the moment.
I still feel like I’m going to rocket to stardom once discovered on Canadian Idol or So You Think You Can Dance, but until then I will continue on as CEO of our family.