Mother’s Day and the Competitive Mommy Virus

As a parent, you research and look for advice so you don’t totally mess up your child.  Later, you find out that the best of intentions don’t always work out.  I think that as a parent, you can cross the line of being prepared and jump right into trying to be perfect.  I can remember  my early memories of my mother telling me, “If you are going to do it, do it right.”  This made me strive for perfection from science fairs to cooking the perfect cookie. 

The problem is that as a mom, perfectionism is hard to gain.  You almost become a monster in the striving for perfect.  I remember when I tasted perfect.  I went into Walmart during Halloween and saw Southern Belle costumes.  I always wanted to dress like a Southern Belle, which is probably why I make my family go to an Old Time Photos place every summer for a new Southern Belle photo.  At the store, I heard my mother’s voice in my head telling me that I needed to play the clarinet because she always wanted to play the clarinet.  I argued and begged to play the flute.  I became very good at the clarinet.  I even made State Band and Four States Honor Band, but complained about the instrument at every breath.  Even though I replayed this voice, as my girls looked at cute animal costumes, I informed them they would be Belles.  I even taught them to curtsy, and say, “It’s a pleasure to meet ya” in a lovely southern accent.  They won first place at our church’s Fall Festival , and the competitive mommy spirit came alive.  When my son attended the school Fall Festival, he wanted to be a construction worker.  I told him we could do so much better than that.  With my husband’s reluctant help, we made a massive bulldozer out of an oven appliance box.  It was painted yellow with a scoop and a “NO DOZING IN SCHOOL” sign.  He wore it over his body while wearing the construction hat he wanted to originally wear.  He knocked people over everywhere as he tried to walk around, but he won first place.  By then I was fully infected with the competitive mommy bug.  Every costume contest, I scrolled Pinterest in search of a winner.  There was dressing my son like a dalmation and putting him in a box with stuffed dogs that said, “Pick of the litter,” the mirror mirror on the wall costume where my identical twin girls dressed in mirror image and carried a cardboard see-through mirror between them, and the list continued.  This bug spread into birthday party planning, cake-making, and science fair ideas.  Note: some of you may recognize this because you have the virus also.  I remember that I tried to do the perfect party for my girl’s second birthday.   It would have been great if Aimee and Megan hadn’t gotten in a fight over a doll right before the party.  All of Aimee’s pictures are of her smiling proudly holding the doll but sporting a black eye.  My perfection continued with giving teachers the perfect gifts.  One poor teacher did a home visit where we presented her with a high tea party.  I don’t think she knew what hit her.  Why did I need to do this? 

Control.  As my family grew from one to four, time became a commodity and sleep a lofty goal that I thought I would never attain.  In trying to present the perfect home, I was trying to control what felt like a life spiraling out of my control.  As my pretty furniture dawned crayoned portraits and my gourmet meals became whatever I could find in my refrigerator and could cook in 30 minutes, I started to realize something.  Planning didn’t allow me to control my life.  It helped, but also added a whole new level of pressure.  This striving for a perfect life  the world would applaud was stealing my peace.  Control would never give me peace.  Philippians 4:6-7 says, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”  I realized my peace comes from not controlling my world, but knowing who created the world.  The same God who made the universe provides for me just in time.  Last week, I mentioned my family was in the waiting season for my oldest son to find a way to pay for room and board at college.  Days before he had to move out, he not only was offered a job at a resort that gives scholarships to his college for  room and board, but was allowed to rent a dorm room where part of his rent will go toward room and board next year.  God waited until days before he had to move home, but God provided just enough, just in time.  So perfection will never be something I achieve.  The teachers may get store-bought cookies, and the family photos may not be color-coordinated, but that’s okay because God has given me beautiful children to raise.  He will take care of not only them, but also me.  And that’s enough.

Have a great week high-heeled warriors!  And Happy Mother’s Day!