a letter from


Hi Mama.  I’m Supermom. 

We met the other day. Remember at the playground when you saw me handling all my kids with gentleness and logic.  Oh and we also crossed paths at the grocery store.  My kids were so well behaved and didn’t throw a fit at the check out counter when I said no about buying a chocolate bar.  And how can I forget the restaurant.  You noticed my family as we all sat down quietly for dinner.  The kids colored in their little books and spoke politely to the waitress.  Yep, that’s me.  Supermom. 

Well, I have a confession to make.  A reality check, if you will. 

What you’ve seen of me is nothing, NOTHING, like my actual daily life.  It might sound crazy, but my actual life looks a lot like yours. The differences in my life – whether I work or stay at home or homeschool or serve or have more kids or have more stresses – does not necessarily mean that my life is harder or tougher to manage.  And don’t ever fall for the myth that I have it all under control all the time.  I’m going just as crazy as you.  I struggle with mealtimes and bedtimes and naptimes, just like you.  I lose my cool over discipline and sibling rivalry and manners, just like you.  I work and fight to be a better mom everyday.  Just.  Like.  You. 

As a matter of fact, there’s really nothing super about me.  That’s an illusion.  What you saw of my life back there when I seemed to have it all together was one of two things.  Most probably, it was a complete fluke that surprised me as much as it surprised you.  I didn’t really dwell on it cuz I knew that it was fleeting.  I just kept my head down and plowed on waiting for the ball to drop. 

Or on the other hand, it could have been that I was working really hard on a particular behavior.  Maybe I had bribed my kids with just one peaceful trip to the grocery store in exchange for two episodes of Paw Patrol when we get home.  Maybe I had threatened my kids with no playdates for two weeks if we can’t eat in peace at the restaurant just this once.  Maybe a million things.  But what I know for sure is that this is not our norm at baseline.  And what you see of me is just a small instant in time, not a sampling of an average day.

Really Mama, supermoms don’t exist.  If only you would have followed me that day and come home with us.  You might have expected to see fabulous home décor and Instagram-worthy play areas.  You might have thought the kids would come in quietly, take their shoes and jackets off and put them in their delicately assigned places near the entrance.  You might have imagined you’d smell the fresh smell of Lysol or Mr Clean. 

But no Mama.  You didn’t come home with me that day after my calm experience at the park or the mall or the school pickup.  You didn’t see the piles of socks at the door or spilled Legos in the living room.  You didn’t see the dishes and the laundry and the clutter and the dust.  You haven’t seen my actual life.   You kinda just assumed that I must be superior.  That I have it all together.  That maybe I know something you don’t. 

Maybe you even wished you could do better.  Like me.  Oh how little you know, Mama. 

Stop lying to yourself about me Mama.  Stop creating “the person that I must be” inside your head long after I’ve left.  Stop filling in the gaps of my life that you don’t know with picture perfect images of what my reality must be like.  Cuz it’s all wrong.  I’m struggling with parenting and lacking sleep and trying to practice positive self talk.  I’m trying to juggle my life as a mom just like you are. 

I guess you could say I’m not Supermom.  I’m just mom.  Just like you.