I’ve been having some issues lately. Mental ones I suppose, since physically I feel pretty good (except for the terrible case of writer’s ass, but that’s my own fault). Issues I’ve had a hard time diagnosing due to trying to fit ten pounds of shit in a five-pound sack on a daily basis. Go here, go there, do this, fill this out, write this check, go back over here, answer this phone call, respond to this email, wipe this ass, clean up this vomit, do the laundry, go back to the first place you went, and don’t forget to cook supper. Of course expected to do it all with a smile on my face and confidence in my eyes. You all know what I mean. Living in the fog of bullshit and the appearance that we know what in the hell we are doing.
I realized that I can’t continue the act. I just can’t. I can’t pretend that I have it all together because I don’t. I can’t pretend that I have the slightest clue what I’m doing with my kids because quite frankly I’m winging it. I won’t pretend that life is all rainbows and glitter because there are days when shoveling a barn full of cow shit would be more enjoyable than dealing with the cards that we have been dealt. I’m here to make a confession today my friends. I just have to get this off my chest and run with it.
That’s right, I said it. Mediocre.
Now I don’t want you all to be making comments to smooth the waters and boost my ego, that’s not why I’m telling you this. I’m telling you this because I want you to know that it’s OKAY to be mediocre. DO YOU HEAR ME? IT’S OKAY TO BE MEDIOCRE.
Yes, I’m yelling at you because I want you to hear me. Say it with me: IT’S OKAY TO BE MEDIOCRE.
I don’t mean to settle for being mediocre, we should never settle for being mediocre. What I do mean that it is OKAY TO BE MEDIOCRE from time to time.
No one is going to run from you screaming if they see you in yoga pants with no makeup on and your hair in a messy bun at the grocery store.
It isn’t going to kill your kids if they eat pizza and ice cream with a soda chaser for supper every once in a while.
You aren’t going to burn in hell for yelling at your kids to PICK UP THEIR SHIT.
The teachers at school aren’t going to think any less of you if you forget that permission slip. For the third day in a row.
While your tween may be raging pissed at you for not letting her have a Facebook/Pinterest/Instagram account because the rules say you must be 13 and damn it, she’ll have plenty of time to lie about her age when she gets older. She will get over it.
If you don’t clean the toilets today, you will have a second chance to
wipe them with a clorox wipe clean them tomorrow.
Taking the kids out for dinner and a movie is always a great surprise. Even if by “dinner and a movie” you really mean running through the drive-thru and the kids eat in the backseat while the DVD player is on.
Having one of those days in which you just want to run away to a tropical island with Johnny Depp while you catch up on some reading while having drinks in your private cabana? Totally normal. Maybe not the Johnny Depp part, but you know what I mean.
Getting so tired of stepping on Legos and looking at Barbie’s skinny ass that you just want to throw it all into trash bags and forget about it? Join the club.
Fighting the urge to send your kids outside to play then locking the door behind them is nothing to be alarmed about. As long as you don’t actually act on it. For too long.
Oh, you locked yourself in the bathroom this morning in order to take your morning constitutional alone? Pooping in peace is an acceptable expectation. Never properly acknowledged (as you could probably tell by the constant knocking on the door), but completely acceptable.
Cereal for dinner? Fuck it, why not.
Shushing your three-year-old because you are trying to watch your friend on Good Morning America? Hell yes that’s acceptable. It’s not everyday I get to say I know someone famous.
Here’s what I want you know. On those days in which you feel like you are failing as a parent, you aren’t. When you see that kid with the perfect lunch, know that their mom probably just went shopping and re-stocked. They will most likely be eating peanut butter and jelly with a few cracker crumbs and marshmallows by next week. No matter how bad you think it is and how alone you may feel and how much you believe you totally suck as a parent, know that you aren’t alone and you don’t suck.
Know that I’ll be right here, becoming even more comfortable with my mediocrity and I’ve got your back.