Die, SuperMom, Die

Friend of mine is the ideal mom...a SuperMom in her own right. Loves being a mom ALL the time, gets up at the crack of dawn to work out in the morning while the kids munch on their well-balanced breakfast, stationed as they are around the dinner table, bathes everyone including herself (and if you're a parent, you know what an accomplishment that ALONE really is!), dresses herself and her kids and has her hair and makeup done...all by 8 AM. She plays chauffer for school, music lessons, sports, what-have-you, keeps the house looking tornado-free, the laundry and dishes done, runs all her errands without regular incident, finds time for reading with baby, and sets a do, die, or bust limit of 1 hour of TV each day. Only healthy foods and snacks and meals and such, only soft-spoken tones, family prayers, both kids know who Jesus is...the whole thing.

So the other day she's feeling like a terrible mom because she was ILL. That translates to not working out, staying in her PJ's all day long, letting the kids watch hours of tv and eat the traditionally-accompanying tv dinners...she's pretty sure she completely wasted a day and is doomed to hell for it.

Her wasted, hell-damning day?

My average day.

I bathe maybe every other day, and usually when I'm at the gym because I have two hours of uninterrupted, kid-free time, bathe the kids a couple times a week (when they've been playing in the dirt and I have no other choice), they watch days of tv instead of hours, and I only do housework when I have NO OTHER OPTIONS.

Most mornings not only do I skip a workout, I get up, put in a DVD, hand my kids a pop tart, and tell them to be quiet, eat, and watch the movie while I finish sleeping. No, seriously, I do.

My kids eat canned spaghetti o's...veggie, fruit, and meat-free, often 2 meals a day.

And I yell.

And I don't remember the last time I sat down to read to my kids.

I'm screwed, people. Why? Well, mostly because I don't have even the smallest inkling of a drive to be like my friend, who, don't get my wrong, I love and admire, but I just can't be SuperMom. In fact, I think it's safe to say that that part of my who yearns to be a SuperMom was murdered in cold blood by the Bad, Naughy Mommy..."DIE, SuperMom, DIE!!!"

So really, it's not me who is screwed...it's my kids. Social services, anyone?