Retiring My Cape

imageI have a problem. I have a superhero complex. I dream up these amazing plans.

Plans for my health. Plans for my family. Plans for my job.

They are these extravagant expectations. Oh, they do sound amazing in theory; but they require super human strength and determination that would be hard enough to come by if I were just taking care of me. Add in a wonderful husband, a home to take care of, two beautiful children and a part time job and…well, who am I kidding? Those plans are just not gonna happen.

I believe they are possible all the same. Until I fail…and I have to face my Kryptonite; The fear that I am not good enough…because I failed. I’m not good enough because my goals,that were too lofty at inception, didn’t happen.

I’ve been listening* to a book by Lisa TerKeurst called {Unglued}. In it, she coins a phrase that has become a mantra in the Parker Household: imperfect progress.

We say this to each other, when the dishes pile up but we had a home cooked meal. Or when the laundry is caught up but the living room is a disaster.

Because the life we lived before children is gone.  The time of fresh sheets and clean floors is on hold for a while. The food choices we make are not always the ones we want to make long term. I will be late to work because of two sweet little speed bumps. I will have days when my activities consist of stroking the beautiful golden hair of a sick little boy who is too sick and tired to keep his eyes open for a movie. I will have days when I never make it to the shower. I will have days when my tear stained raw face will parade itself in front of many a person who thought I was stronger than that. There will be seasons where I am not at the top of my game.

And in each of these moments I will need to remind myself that I have not failed. I am just living. And to truly live, I have to retire my cape. I have to reveal who I really am for the world to see.

I have to be okay with me. I am enough.

{Life is Beautiful}

*that’s how I manage to stay in books these days with two little ones


Today has been a really great day. I was up before the kids, showered and sitting down to breakfast all before 8. My two year old happily played by himself while I shared a few rare moments on the floor with my newborn catching her beautiful happy smile. Later, I used my imagination playing with blocks and cars with the Dom and my sweet Charlee took an awesome morning nap. And I still had time to work on the laundry while Dom actually played with playdough on his own. (Usually he tells me what to make but doesn’t care to touch it). Lunch. And then both kids went down for a nap. At. The. Same. Time.


Makes it hard to believe that earlier this week I cried myself to sleep. Makes the memory of a fussy newborn’s tears so distant. Makes the overflowing dishes, laundry and heated emotions disappear. Makes the fact that I had zero time to myself feel like fiction.

Today I feel like a champion. On Monday I felt like a failure. But neither is really the truth.

There are days when I ask my son if he’s having fun and the smile in his eyes is all I need. There are times when my baby girl’s giggle fills me up.

There are also days when I can’t seem to get it together. And that makes me want to call in sick. Play hooky as a mom.

But I’m still a mom. And despite the beatings my mind can give me as I replay my bad days, I can’t define my worth as a mom based on the result that day brought. Some days are really really wonderful. Some days are more the ‘throw the covers over your head and go back to bed’ variety.

Having a bad day doesn’t make me a bad mom anymore than having a good day makes me a good mom. Getting up every day and facing the good days right along with the oh so terrible days (that do come) is what makes me a good mom.

I love my children when the nap and when they don’t.

And I am worthy of the wondrous title mommy when I feel like it and when I don’t.