Mom Harder. Better. Faster. Stronger.

My best Game Face. Circa 1973.

My best Game Face. Circa 1973.

I’ve reached a plateau.

I’ll call it “gliding.” Sounds nice, right?

Problem is, this gliding involves a stasis– it’s more like an aircraft holding pattern.
Awaiting clearance.

I’m someone who likes movement… A busy body who experiences terrible bouts of depression when I am not doing something “constructive.”

Back to the stasis.  Every few weeks, my daughter falls (not so neatly) into a schedule or behavior pattern that will allow me time to focus on my perpetual to-do list (taking a 4 minute shower, sitting down to eat, finding a cure for cancer, etc.) Most new moms (generalizing here) would revel in some new-found “me” time, no?  Many might even take this time to put their feet up and relax, and deservingly so.

Not me.

I think of the things I should be doing; training for a marathon so that I can have an Instagram photograph taken of my doting family meeting me at the finish line (this will be posted on Facebook, of course); transforming my daughter’s school lunch into an elaborate presentation of geometric expression through P, B & J tangrams; researching the accuracy of scientific measuring equipment used by the world’s best baristas; making sure my television is on for exactly 30 minutes a day for educational/developmental purposes, only… just to name a few.

In reality I do none of these things.

Well, aside from running and my nasty Instagram habit that I vehemently try to downplay, I usually enjoy my bi-weekly glide by obsessively cleaning around, over and under my daughter as she ODs on Yo Gabba Gabba & Elmo.

Yes, TV happens, folks. Deal with it.

Look out, righteous, overachieving moms because 2013 will be the year I will mom harder. better. faster and stronger… Or at least blog as if I will. And I can blog a very good game.

Here’s to putting my feet up. Let the games begin!

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3 thoughts on “Mom Harder. Better. Faster. Stronger.

  1. i admire your honesty, i raised 3 daughters as a single mom, and somehow we all survived. you can do it and it will make you a better writer. judged many times over by my ex mother in law who was a home ec major, made me stronger.

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