I walked into the fellowship hall with my children and several bags in tow. As my girls scattered in excitement to play I set my sacks down. The one that held food was a plastic bag from a gas station, and I cringed as I looked across the snack table provided. Everywhere were cute Christmas dishes, crockpots, and across the room several moms iced homemade cupcakes. I had two bags of Chester Cheetos Cheese Puffs, cause who doesn’t like those, right?!
I should have at least brought a decorative bowl to put them in, I thought.
But I hadn’t. Because I barely made it on time. And I only remembered I was even lacking in the required snack to share at around nine o’clock last night. So my gas station grab bag was as good as it was gonna get. I had considered a quick trip to the Kroger for something more special, but there really wasn’t such a thing as quick with three little kids and car seats. So…
I already had felt bad about my frazzled mood when rushing the children out the door. I had awoken long before them to set out clothes and a bag of wrapped gifts to exchange, but still we were racing towards the end. That was just our jam, baby.
Yet when I first looked at those sweet ladies with cupcakes, the homemade hor d’oeuvres, and all the cute kiddos in ruffle pants (which I admittedly adored) I felt like I was lacking in the mommy department. I felt subpar and had even spoken as much to my husband via text before arriving.
“Do you think I’m a subpar mom because I get so frazzled at things like this? Others don’t seem to.”
I’m not sure what it is about women that feel we must be doing something, but also doing it well. It’s like our anxiety rises when we’re not rushing about, and we begin to wonder what we’re missing or forgetting. We feel our worth is based a lot on our performance, and thanks to the world around us we have a preconceived notion of what that’s supposed to look like.
Whether we want to admit it or not we’re blinded by the sparkle. We see the glitzy world social media displays, we thumb through magazines or Pinterest with a yardstick ego, and we watch Mrs. Jones even if we think we don’t. In a world that says, “look at me,” and one that captures in fully-filtered glory the highlight reel of the everyday mundane we begin to see the world through rose-colored glasses. Or sometimes green ones (in the case of unintentional envy). Even ordinary circumstances like this morning are viewed through a tainted expectation and standard we hold ourselves to, and despite our understanding that we all hold certain talents and gifts, it doesn’t matter.