Super Mom: That’s What You Can Call Me

Super Mom: That’s What You Can Call Me

As a mom of twins, I am in a LOT of mommy groups. Virtual mommy groups, really. Because I don’t have a lot of time to put pants on anyone and get to actual real life social interaction. In one of my Mommies of Multiples groups, I read a blog by a mom saying she found it offensive when others called her “Super Mom.” She just wanted to be considered a mere mortal like the rest of the world.

 

Wait, what?

 

Not only do I have twin five-month olds, I also have a four and three year old. I don’t leave the house without someone strapped to me, in a stroller or hefting enough carseats and diaper bags to pull neck muscles (been there, done that). I haven’t slept longer than 2 hours straight in five months. My nipples resemble hardened bunions.

 

If I walk vigorously up the stairs I can hear the clap of my withered, prune of a lower stomach slap my upper thigh. My closet has clothes ranging from size 26 down to size 12. I have worn all of those sizes in the past year. My head has bald spots so large I have taken to wearing bandannas like Captain Hook’s portly sidekick, Mister Smee. I take four kids to the grocery store which means I have to push a double stroller, pull a shopping cart AND make sure my two oldest don’t end up in an Amber Alert.

 

The absolute LEAST I have earned is having flabbergasted strangers call me Super Mom. I, myself, cannot even fathom how I pull off my daily agenda. The mere fact that I have an hour to type on a computer shocks me. I remember tooting my own horn for working 60 hours a week and thinking how damn HEROIC I was for pulling that shit off. My level of responsibility that exceeds my own comprehension. I use to close bars more than once a week. Now I am in charge of four extremely small and fragile beings and they are all still in one piece????

 

I have earned it. Call me super mom. I don’t know how, but I have earned it.

 

In that same breath, though, please don’t think I have advice. Like I said, I have absolutely not the slightest inclination of how this shit is getting handled. My kids are nice most days by pure luck of the roll. There is nothing “super” about my parenting skills other than the fact that I haven’t resorted to sleeping midday while they learned to juggle cutlery. I really have no idea what I am doing. BUT, I sure as hell love to hear other people call me super mom. I’ll take what I can get.

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