Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Perfectly Average and Proud of it!

You know who annoys me?


You know the ones I'm talking about.  They are the current incarnation of June Cleaver.  In the grocery store, they push around 3 perfectly behaved, well dressed and patient children in a cart, while looking like they not only stepped out of a J.Crew magazine, but could have modeled in it too.  The ones who look down their noses at my yoga pants, stained college sweatshirt and sneakers. Come on!  It's the freakin' grocery store - not church! They pass judgement on my tantrum throwing, mismatched, messy, but precocious Miss Chatterbox and usually feel compelled to pass on sage advice such as, "Rocks are not an appropriate toy for a girl"  or  "You just need to take control of the situation."

To which I usually respond, "PPhhhwwwwwwwtttt!"  Yeah, I'll admit it - sometimes Miss Chatterbox is more mature than I am.  And I'm cool with that.

Seriously though, while the sancti-mommies annoy me, I also pity them.  To care so much about what other people think, that you feel the need to keep up that level of perfection, must be exhausting!  Hell, I call it a good day if everyone gets dressed.  Matching clothes are just a bonus.  If The Firefighter is on daddy duty, well, I'll even lower my standards a bit.  I mean, really, how hard is it to put up a ponytail - sheesh.

*disclaimer: I feel the need to clarify - my low standards do not include hygiene.  We are fastidious about bathing, tooth brushing, hand washing, etc.  I'm talking about things like matching socks, clothes right side out, etc. 

Most of all, I feel for the kids of those sancti-mommies.  That's some intense pressure to be perfect.  Shoot, I'm hard enough on myself, I'd hate to have my parents pushing for perfection too!  In fact, I used to beat myself up because I felt I wasn't living up to my potential in life.  After all, I had classmates that became doctors, engineers, CEO's, lawyers, even one who is a wild life vet in Africa. What did I become?  Ordinary, completely and totally.

But I'm not one to stay down long.  I decided that I'm not just ordinary, I am Extraordinarily Ordinary.  What does that mean you ask (and what does that have to do with sancti-mommies - don't worry, I'm getting there)?  It means, that I live my life to the best of my ability and find happiness in the simple things.  I don't need lots of shiny things, big titles, pretty outfits, or public approval to be happy.  The sancti-mommies need all those things to feel complete, and their children learn to feel that way, thus perpetuating the cycle.

I want my children to feel loved and accepted by me...and by themselves.  I want them to fully embrace their inner - whatever.   If they want to take up professional snorkeling as a career, I'm cool with that.  If they wanna get covered in tats and run off with a biker gang - eh, I might have a problem with that, unless it's Jax from SOA - he's a total hottie!  Basically, I just want them to be okay with whoever they are.  I want them to know that matching clothes and magazine perfect homes...those are just extras not the substance of life.

So Ladies, have you ever had a run-in with a sancti-mommy?


  1. I'm no mommy, but I feel the same way about the grocery store. So what if I don't look exactly "presentable"? I just need some cereal and a loaf a bread, it's not a catwalk!

  2. Yeah, my goal of being a sancti-mommy has officially been ignored. My FF is PM school, which means I have 5 kids until Feb 2. Last night our toilet was replaced, unfortunately, I was not informed of this event. And so when the handy man knocked on the door and I invited him, he was greeted by my foyer, with the coat tree and 1200 pairs of shoes (Maybe "pairs" is misleading) there was also a huge duffel bag with turn-out gear, his tub o' firehouse bedding and 4 backpacks. My living room had the three baskets of laundry that I did not get to, the dining room table was covered in glitter glue and yarn (clearly the tools to decorate a turkey) and my kitchen shows that I am missing my house, because the house we are renting does not have a dishwasher - hope mine sells fast. This does not mention the state of the bedrooms upstairs, where the broken toilet was. Oh yeah, an it is finals week.

    So, yeah, my quest for sancti-mommyhood was officially squashed last night.

  3. Like the song goes, "You can't please everyone, so you got to please yourself." That applies just about everywhere. Also, child hood is temporary - at some point it evolves and changes, and soon they do not wish to accompany you anywhere, or be seen with you. Unless you are sporting an untreated chemical imbalance, you are free to guide and treat your children however you choose! No matter what, and no take-backs! LOL! Great post!