I passed a mom today leaving Brynna’s school and she told me that she always feels underdressed when she sees me. She said she wished she could put on real clothes and makeup but never seems to have the time. The funny thing is, I always feel so ill-prepared when I’m around her. I forgot to send a baby picture with the “All About Me” bag yet her kid had a fully decorated bag complete with stickers and glitter. (I bet she got the idea on Pinterest.)
I don’t pin. The most I’ve seen of pinterest is when Hope sends me funny sayings or people post never-ending recipes and craft ideas on facebook.
I also don’t craft. There was a time that I thought I was crafty, but then I met actual crafty people. I can handle a paintbrush but I don’t enjoy it. And it’s messy. Artistic people have an ability to let themselves go that I just don’t possess. All I can think is “who’s going to clean this up?” And of course, the answer is me, so I opt for the Target version of whatever crafty item I was going to attempt to make.
In addition, I don’t do loud. I was a loud person when I was younger, and I enjoy blasting a song in the car like any self-respecting girl. But I can’t handle “kid loud.” My sister’s family stayed at our house a few weeks ago, and as always when we are together, I was overtly aware of our differences. Vikki has the uncanny ability to tune out the piercing screeches of small children – probably because she’s usually the one tickling or chasing them into hysteria. I do not possess this ability. In fact, I think I hear them even louder than they actually are. My head feels like there’s a fire engine parked in the middle of the living room with lights and siren blaring. How do you not hear that?!
I don’t do play dates. I love to get Brynna together with other kids to play. Lord knows I love them for expelling some of that energy. But I don’t do the rest of it. It doesn’t cross my mind to provide kid-friendly snacks and have a game ready for them to play.
Let’s don’t even mention homeschool. I break out in hives at the thought.
We spend so much time thinking about the things another mom can do that we can’t (or choose not to). But here’s the thing: Brynna doesn’t know what pinterest is. She doesn’t need me to be crafty. She needs me to hold her when she’s scared and teach her that she’s loved no matter what. And no one can do that better than me because no one but Jesus loves her more than me.
The best mom you can be is the mom you are. If you craft, make that baby the best wall-hanging a nursery has ever seen. But if that’s not you, don’t stress. Go to Target. If you are like my sister and could manufacture a play date out of thin air in the middle of a crowded mall, then please do. And invite us. If you come to my house we’ll all just be disappointed.