All and all, I think I’m a pretty good mom.
I know, it’s weird to say that about yourself. God knows I wouldn’t have said that a year or so ago. But I think I’ve gotten better.
I am not a great cook. Our house isn’t spotless. I don’t make lunches (anymore). I don’t go to PTSA meetings. I don’t volunteer at school or go on field trips very often. There is nothing remotely Pinteresting about my kids’ birthday parties or lives, for that matter.
And sometimes I beat myself up about that stuff. I mean, isn’t that part of being the perfect mom?
Probably. But I think that’s the kicker. I gave up on perfect a long time ago. And letting go of perfection is one of the most freeing things you can do for yourself, your people and your life.
I was divorced before Caroline turned two. If there was ever going to be an illusion of perfect for her, it was crushed before she could even remember. I used to grieve that. But now I see it as an unexpected gift.
She’s growing up with the goal of perfection already off the table.
My kids don’t worship me. They’re not intimidated by my amazingness. They don’t base their security on my perfection. They KNOW I’m not perfect and are reminded of that daily.
But you know what else they know? That they are known, that they are loved and that if I have any choice in the matter, I will ALWAYS show up.
On my list of twelve New Years goals, one simply says ‘Cannonball.’ It’s a philosophy I adopted after learning a very important lesson at Caroline’s birthday party back in December.
Since I don’t put on Pinterest-worthy events, we usually have Caroline’s parties elsewhere: Chuckie Cheese, Airheads, the chocolate place in Baldwin Park, etc. This past birthday, she wanted to take a few friends to DeLeon Springs, make pancakes at the Sugar Mill and, yes, swim in the spring.
Here’s the deal. The temperature of the water is a freezing 68 degrees year round. So swimming in it in December is technically no different than swimming in it in July.
It’s the getting OUT that makes the idea a little less appealing. When the sun is beating down, the spring water feels like welcome relief and you know that you can get out and be warm in a matter of seconds, that’s one thing. But when the air outside is about the same temperature as the water, getting in a bathing suit and getting wet doesn’t sound quite as fun.
But it was her birthday and I wasn’t going to try to stop her. I told her that her little friends might not be up for it (wrong) and that I probably wouldn’t get in either. Brad stepped up to be the designated fun parent to swim with the girls and I planned to sit out, watch, take pictures and hand out towels like I always have.
But a couple days before the party, something hit me: How do I want to be remembered when Caroline is an adult? The mom that didn’t want to get her hair wet and mess up her makeup? The mom that was too big of a weenie to be cold for a few minutes to make her kid’s day? The mom who was too busy doing stuff FOR her that I didn’t do stuff WITH her?
Screw that.
I remembered the absolutely insane decision I made to do the Battlefrog 5K with Beau earlier that year and how he still has us at the finish line as his Instagram picture. That was one of the best mom decisions I ever made and the feeling of doing something WITH one of my kids versus just cheering them on hit me afresh.
I informed Caroline and Brad that I would be joining them in the spring at the party. (At that point, Brad tried to opt out, but we didn’t let him.)
A few days later, Caroline and I were standing on the edge of the spring in our bathing suits, dripping wet and shivering. We watched her friends and Brad splash around in the water laughing and having a crazy, fun time.
The only other people in the water had on full wetsuits (which looked wonderfully warm). And I’m sure the rest of the people there that day thought we were nuts. I definitely did.
Caroline took it all in and a broad smile crept across her face. She looked at me, eyes sparkling. “Hey, Mom. Wanna cannonball?”
I grinned back at her. “Um, YEAH,” I said, like I couldn’t believe she even asked.
She giggled. “Okay….one…two….THREE!” We jumped in, both shrieking all the way down.
In that moment I made a command decision: For the rest of my days, I was going to be a Cannonball Mom.
Here are some of the ways that has played out:
Beau and I went on a date where I encouraged him to get the biggest steak he could eat. (I think it was something crazy like 32 ounces.) We had a Star Wars night of two movies and three different dips for dinner.
I let Sydney do my hair for an important event, and I was late because I let her take as much time as she wanted to get it just right. I’ve picked her up from a babysitting gig late one night after everybody else was asleep and, instead of going right home, took her to Dairy Queen.
Caroline has helped me cook several different things (even though doing it myself would have been much faster). We regularly rock out in the car on the way to wherever, turning the music up loud enough to rattle the rearview mirror. And I tear myself away from my laptop long enough to have movie dates with her on the couch some afternoons. And no multitasking allowed.
I think in the past, a lot of dads were the fun ones and the moms filled the role of designated driver of the family. Our society has made great strides toward gender equality. But we’re not there yet, ladies! We need to fight for the right to have fun with our kids as well. Dads have held the monopoly on fun for far too long.
I was discussing this with another mom the other day. She has a painfully fun husband, but had also recently decided she would no longer be pigeon-holed into being the not-fun one. “I mean, we want to have fun too!” she exclaimed. “We’re still kids on the inside!”
But if I don’t do the dishes, wash the clothes, clean the house, no one else will, you say. And it has to get done.
Yes, that’s true. But does it have to get done RIGHT NOW? If a dance party breaks out in the other room, are you really gonna miss it because you were doing the DISHES?
Now I’m not saying that being a parent should be all fun and games. It’s so not. It’s hard work. It’s thankless work. We have to say no a lot. We have to guide, teach, discipline, etc. constantly. And we shouldn’t be our kids’ friends. We have to be their parents.
And I think the important nature of our hard work and our desire to do our job well can trap us into making it all work and no play. Many times we don’t have a choice. So when we do, we MUST choose WITH over FOR.
It has been a wonderful goal to embrace. Precious memories made. More laughter shared. And while the kids may forget the specifics someday, hopefully when they think of me, they’ll remember me doing stuff WITH them, instead of just FOR them.
Last weekend we all went to a spring training baseball game with some other families in our neighborhood. It wasn’t has hot as it could have been. Nonetheless, we were all still pretty sticky and sweaty when it was over.
In the car on the ride home, Caroline announced that she was going to jump in the pool when we got back. Our pool isn’t big, but it’s deep. It’ll get downright warm in the summer, but we’re not there yet. Between September and April, it’s freezing.
Everyone scoffed at her idea, but she was undaunted. Right then, remembering my new philosophy, I silently resolved to join her.
We got home, I grabbed a few towels and raced out to the pool with Caroline. She saw me taking off my shoes and looked at me incredulously, “YOU’RE coming TOO?”
“Um, YEAH. Better hurry or I’m gonna beat you.”
“Wait! Wait!” She ran to the back door and yelled inside to anyone in earshot, “Mom’s jumping in too!”
I ran to the deep end and prepared to jump.
“Mom, wait!” Caroline insisted, scrambling to get off her shoes and watch.
Sydney came out and decided she didn’t want to miss the fun. “Hurry up, Syd! We’re goin’ in!” I got in a runner’s stance at the pool’s edge.
Brad joined us outside just to witness the insanity. “Take your phone out of your pocket!” he called.
I got one daughter on either side, all three of us fully clothed, and we counted, “One…two…THREE!” And jumped.
As expected, it was freezing. I scrambled out as quickly as I had gotten in. The girls decided to keep swimming for a while (little weirdos). I wrapped up in a towel and got back to the business of life.
Like I said, this is new. I don’t have it all figured out. I don’t nail it every time. I’ve missed bedtime rituals because I was in the zone in the middle of the project of the moment. I choose efficiency over connection more times than I want to admit and slip back into FOR instead of WITH.
But I’m starting to be more and more aware of opportunities to make memories with my family. The clock is ticking, sweet time is flying by and we’ve got to be intentional. This diem isn’t going to carpe itself.
So just think about it, moms. Think about freeing yourself from the illusion of perfect. Think about how you want to be remembered when your kids (and grandkids!) are grown. And think about what life might look like if you were a Cannonball Mom.
Come on. I’ll jump with you. Ready?
One…two…THREE!
