by Iris Lamb

Created on: May 07, 2010

Supermom syndrome

It’s a term that sends a rather mixed message, isn’t it? “Supermom” sounds positive. “Syndrome” not so much. Let’s explore the term for a bit, shall we?

What exactly is a supermom? When I hear the word, I picture a stunning woman who expertly juggles several children, a husband, school bake-sales, church volunteer work, an immaculate looking house and most likely a part time job as well, all the while looking like she just stepped off the cover of Vogue magazine.

I think we all know someone who answers to this description. It’s that woman who lives down the block in a house that makes yours look like a chicken coop in comparison. It’s that mom at the PTA meeting,  who always knows what she’s talking about and never sticks her foot in her mouth while twenty five people are hanging on her every word. It’s that hockey mom who brings healthy snacks for all the kids that they actually like...  and eat.

Now picture me: dressed in practical clothes (read: sweatpants and a t-shirt, combined with an old shirt of my husband’s), juggling two children and expecting a third, with a house that usually looks like a toy bomb went off, forever trying to keep up with the laundry and the cleaning, looking not so much stunning as stunned most of the time.

I have wanted to be a supermom since I was a little girl. I still think there is nothing wrong with striving for perfection... unless you believe that it is actually attainable. Because let’s face it... it is not. Most of us do our best, our hearts are in the right place and we try. But some days our kids’ behaviour makes us want to lock ourselves in the basement for four hours while eating cookies and crying uncontrollably. Some days I find myself thinking:”Man, if this was a job, I’d quit. The hours are ridiculous, the pay stinks, and I can’t remember the last time I could take a vacation day.”

And I think that’s okay. My kids get hugged every day, and told they are loved. In turn, they give me my fair share of hugs and I-love-yous. They seem generally happy and well adjusted, and I love them more than I could ever put into words. Supermom I am not. My house will never be immaculate, the odds of me ever throwing a garden party with little cucumber sandwiches are slim to none, and nobody would even think of calling me perfect.

But I happen to believe that even the Supermoms out there have their off-days, and if you are patient enough, every once in a while one of them can be caught running out in the rain, in her raggedy pyjamas with her hair on end, to retrieve the paper from the lawn. Or losing her cool when her two year old throws a tantrum in the supermarket, dragging the youngster out of the store while her cheeks take on a beet red color. You just have to pay attention. And if you catch a Supermom on an off-day, be big about it. Give her an encouraging nod and a smile, and think to yourself:”There is no such thing as perfection... there is no such thing as perfection!”

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