Last night at a baby shower one of my new Carlsbad friends referred to me as "Supermom."
Excuse me? Were you referring to me? The frazzled, unshowered woman sitting across from you?
I might have been flattered if the term had actually been grounded in reality.
It happened when my gift was opened: a pair of white crocheted baby booties. Everyone oohed and aahed and passed the shoes around, which I was against. Because there were actually authentic crafters in the room who could rat me out as an imposter. And then my good friend Tanya was kind enough to mention that I'd started making them that very day. Traitor. [Yeah, well, do you know what else I did that day? Nothing. I slumped in the same spot on the couch amid piles of mail, toys, and smashed up popcorn while Grace climbed on my head and I held Claire in nursing position with my knee.] That's when I got accused.
"You Supermom... Is there anything you can't do?" MiYung asked with a degree of admiration and maybe annoyance.
This is coming from a woman I compare myself to a lot. I do this for mainly three reasons: 1) She keeps the books for her husband's pediatry clinic, 2) She keeps her home immaculate and beautifully decorated, and 3) She has been doing her dishes in the bathtub for the last two weeks, for lack of a kitchen sink. And she never whines. Okay, four reasons.
On the other hand, the only things MiYung knows about me is that I make booties, I bake bread, and I keep my monthly grocery budget to $100 (don't ask me how she knows that). She thinks those things are amazing. What she doesn't get is those things are necessities. Besides, the hundred dollar grocery budget means less produce and dairy. Which means fewer vitamins and nutrition. Which I'm pretty sure is the definition of not supermom.
But I do what I have to do. No more than that. Someday soon I will buy baby gifts made by someone else, and I will spend $400 a month on groceries without having a stroke. And then I will keep the house clean and decorated like MiYung.