Get Real
Well, my very first post for Best Tools for School. I’ve spent a few restless nights trying to determine just what this first piece should look like. I want to make a good first impression after all; I’m hoping we’ll be friends. Those restless nights, a few fruitless attempts to write amidst the chaos of a barking dog, the smoke detector and a carpet cleaning session netted me little more than two pages of think notes. The best I could do was “The dishwasher, a how to guide for teenagers” not really a first encounter conversation.
By Sunday morning, still coming up short, I desperately believed that my dishwasher tips might be just what you were in for. Thank goodness I put down my laptop and went to hockey practice, and thank goodness we sat next to The King of the World. Lessons exist everywhere in life; the hockey rink observation lounge is not an exception to this rule. I was there and I learned a big one.
The King of the World enlightened my husband for 58 minutes on everything from his star athlete children to his world travels and back again to his thriving businesses, superior management style, athletic prowess and convening skills. I heard my husband say 3 phrases in those 58 minutes… “hi”, “for sure” and “wow.” The whole time my bull-crap detector was alarming in my brain, it kept screaming “get real, get real” and I knew what this first post should be about.
Getting real.
We are living in a world of experts; a person cannot escape Facebook shrinks, TV reality gurus, twitter-sperts, even hockey rink life coaches. Everywhere you turn there is someone waiting with ‘the answers to life’, the ‘how to’ and the ‘what you are doing wrong’.
As a parent the only thing I long to hear is the mom in the checkout line ahead of me, say right out loud to her screaming child… “You are making me nuts, I’m not cut out for this job and right now, what I would like to do is hand you to this nice lady behind the counter in fair trade for a bag of milk and a box of tampons.” I want to hear it because I’ve been there. I would high five her and tell her that she was doing a great job – being real. I might have been a much better mom in the early years if someone had looked me straight in the eye and said. “Your kids are going to do things like take the plug out of the waterbed and go swimming while you have coffee with the neighbour.” I would not been so hard on myself when it happened. I would have cut myself some slack.
So get real I decided…. so here is some of my motherhood reality.
Most days I show up to my office gig wrinkled and smiling. I have no time for ironing and I’ve spent my Botox money on juvenile dental work and eye glasses. Our dog has eaten all of my shoes except for an unstylish pair of boots that pretty much dictate my pantsuit each day.
For the first 3 years of our oldest daughter Rebecca’s academic career she produced art work not suitable for public display; believing that lady stick people were better represented by breasts than tiny triangle stick skirts. Breasts have nipples, if you subscribe to realism, they have to be there. Nipples are unisex…nipples for everyone!
Our youngest teenage daughter Kate is brilliant and could care less. Exams are coming this week, she will not study, and she will not worry. She will successfully skate by with a 50% in math, avoid summer school and join the rest of us at the cottage. If I could finance her way, she would escape my nagging tomorrow by travelling to build schools half way around the world. She claims humanitarian desires, I sense desperation.
Ethan, our 10 year old son thinks that watching the movie is just as effective as reading the book. He would rather write fart jokes than book reports and is determined despite my resistance, to turn me into a hockey mom. On a side note, he suffers from emotional migraines and will throw up on your shoes if you talk about the Mayan Calendar.
We eat in the living room at least one day a week, the girls rarely wear matching socks and I make them do their own laundry. I hide pots and dishes in the stove when the doorbell rings and I don’t do spa days with my mother. I make rules that my kids ignore, forget dentist appointments and buy birthday cakes. I am my husband’s greatest source of comic relief. There is not a Disney movie that has not brought me to tears and sometimes I lock myself in the bathroom with the water running so that I cannot hear my children bicker.
That’s real.
None of us wants to be that guy, The King of The World. Heck, I don’t think that guy even wanted to be himself. I certainly don’t want to be that guy. I would much rather be a Mom keeping it real so that other moms can feel like a success when their child lays down in the middle of the dance recital and professes her boredom for all the world to hear. I want to be that mom who looks other moms in the eye and tells them to embrace the x-rated art work because 10 years down to road when you are standing in a gallery admiring that same child’s exhibition, you will have those boobies to look back on and laugh about. I know. It has happened to me.
Here’s to new friends, I’m looking forward to getting real together.
You can also find Michelle at here blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.


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