What’s in a name? What’s in a family?


I’ve been called a supermom, many many times and everytime someone says that, I am always taken aback.  When I look at my life I dont see myself as a supermom.  Yes I keep a clean house, cook good meals and have well behaved amazing children… but does that really make a supermom?  When I think of the word supermom, so many things pop into my head other then the qualities people see in me that makes them call me a supermom.  I have watched close friends lose their spouse, love of their life and father to their children to cancer and the strength and grace that they show in the face of such grief is just amazing.  That is a supermom.  The mom who sits by the bedside of her sick child who just under went surgery and chemo because Cancer is raging through their body and still puts a smile on their face for their child.  That is a supermom.  The mother who has had to bury a child well before their time.  That is a supermom…and the millions of other mothers who are dealing with similar situations and much worse.  Mopping the floor and cooking a pot pie pale in comparison, and why do we have to differentiate between mothers anyways? Why am I any better or more of a “supermom” simply because i take care of 4 kids, cook and clean.  There are plenty of mothers out there who play with their kids more then I do, who take them outside more, or to playdates more.  Who are more fun, and creative and do lots of fun projects and crafts that I dont.  It doesnt make them anymore of a better mother or somehow superior to me or anyone else.

All my life I have wanted to be a good mother, and despite the fact that most of my family thinks I’m batshit crazy for how we raise our kids…I can look at my children and know that we are good parents.  We have our bad parent moments like all parents do.  Those that claim to be perfect and have all the answers are only deluding themselves.  I’ve won my fair share of “Worst mom of the year awards” and had many “you’ll be talking to your therapist about this in 20 years” moments.  I know I can look back on my own life and find many of those myself from my own parents.  I know I dont ever want to be like my mother.  I want my kids to know I love them unconditionally.  They are not an extension of me and I would never want them to be.  I dream about what it’s going to be like 30 years from now….my family having probably almost doubled or tripled with new sons and daughters and possibly grandchildren…people requesting favorite dishes that only I can make right.  The sounds of laughter, and happiness and family.

My family is not what you would call close.  I rarely talk to my older sister and brother, I cant actually remember the last time I did that wasnt faciliateted by my dad calling while at their house…and I would honestly be shocked if they ever read this blog at all.  My little brother lives in CA and is a teenager and having a sibling just isnt something he’s concerned with right now.   I was there once I totally get that and I hope one day he wants to have a relationship with me and especially with his niece and nephews.  My biological brother I’ve only ever met once but I’m closer to him then any of my other siblings.  He makes it a point to call on holidays and sends gifts to the kids.  I appreciate his effort to be a good uncle.  My dad while I love him more then anything is not always aware of how little he’s involved in our lives.  Oh sure we talk on the phone several times a week…and I enjoy his visits.  When he actually visits.  Dexter was a year old before he ever met him for the first time.  Wild horses wont be able to keep me away from my grandchildren be it #1 or #20.  That hurt my feelings truth be told….his brother had a great grandchild around the same time and was out there a month later.  I want to see him more.  I want him to be involved in our lives a great deal more then he is.  The kids barely know him, and I want them to know him.  He isnt going to be around forever as much as I hate to admit that to myself….because that day, some of me will die too.  I want them to know what an amazing man he is, what amazing things he’s done.  The last time I spend a holiday with my entire family is so long ago that I cant even remember when.  I’ve never met my 4 year old niece and even though parts of my family have been as close as an hour away from me, they couldnt even be bothered to come see me or so much as reply when I offered to drive to them.  That example I think is the epitome of what my family is like.  I hope my kids are different with each other then we are. That would totally break my heart to see my kids not talk to each other the way the majority of my family and I dont.

Life does surprise you sometimes though. For what I’ve lost in my own family I’ve gained 10 fold in my husbands family.  His mother is one of the most generous and loving people I know.  She has done more for us during our marriage then I can even hope to ever repay….my dad has done his fair share as well, but she has gone above and beyond.  She loves my kids and treats me like a daughter.  His family accepted me and has treated me like a part of the family since day 1.  When my mom died, his cousin reached out to me knowing the whole situation and emphasized that I always have a family in them.  I am so thankful everyday for the amazing family I got when I married my husband…my kids are so lucky to be born into such an amazing family.  I hope that it’s enough to override the crappyness of my family and that my family…or lack their of doesnt warp their view of what family is.  I hope they look back on their childhood with mostly fondness and know that we tried as best as we could, to give them the best life possible without screwing them up to much.  If they arent 30, single and living in my basement I’ll have at least done a halfway decent job.


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  1. Joy -  October 25, 2012 - 8:11 pm

    THis made my day! I am not alone, other people have problems with their famies. I too am clooser to my hubby’s family than to my own. Since my mother died it all fell apart and I began to see what kind of a man my father really was.

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