June 10, 2011

Superwoman blasphemy

I was reading a great parenting book (well, “great” in that I learned some new tricks, not “great” in that I agreed with everything I read) by John Rosemond called Parent Power. Along with stage-by-stage general advice and some spot-on reminders of what life looks like from three feet tall, he addresses various “reader questions.” One of these is from a mom driving herself crazy worrying about a schooling decision for her four children. In his answer, he never actually addresses the schooling question, but he tells her that she has given herself the assignment of “Perfect Mom” and that that approaches blasphemy.

His statement jolted me. I thought we moms were supposed to aim for perfection – especially in anything having to do with our children!! I mean, I know, I know – “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23) - but c'mon, how about “Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48)?!

Hmmm..... so I've been chewing on that......and wondering how pervasive that "Perfect Mom" syndrome is in other areas of my life ….. say, blogging.....

I started my life: in short because I enjoy having a written record of my life (and, honestly, because so many of my facebook statuses exceed the 420-character limit). But after a few entries, I stop. Why?

It wasn't for a lack of ideas.

It was for a lack of polished ideas. I would have been okay writing daily to the faceless void of the internet whatever popped into my head …. except that I went and checked to see if anyone was reading it – and you were!! Scared, I popped back into my hole and only peeped out to check if the interest had died down yet.

In the meantime, I read Mike Yaconelli's book, Dangerous Wonder, and started on Brennan Manning's book, The Ragamuffin Gospel. Safety, both these men claim, is over-rated. Dare, they urge. Risk. Jump! God loves you.  He's got your back.

So I'm jumping.

Big deal, you say. It's just a blog. Everyone blogs. Well, okay. So my neuroses are as unique as the rest of me. I'm still having problems writing, knowing that people who know me might read it. (My husband, Farmer in the Dell, I think I'll call him, would tell me “simple – stop checking the stats page to see if anyone has read it.” Life is easy like that when you're my husband.)

Alright, catharsis finished for today. Off to check if the sheets on the line are dry, drop off a pack of night-time diapers for my son, Li'l Snip (who, with my three daughters, Sugar, Spice, & Everything Nice, is staying with my excellent in-laws this weekend!), and see if the discount grocery store has any dark chocolate to go with the surf-n-turf I promised my Farmer tonight. Anyone want to advise this chicken how to cook steak? (and no, we don't grill)..

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