Hi, I’m Olivia. And that’s it. I’m a flesh and blood mom and I write a blog for normal moms. I say this because, lately, there seems to be a proliferation of robot mothers. You may know them as “supermoms,” and they’re experts in their trade. Especially on social media. There aren’t many of them, but they are well organized and know how to hit the button that makes a mortal mother, like me, sometimes feel that she is not doing things as well as they could be. Does this happen to you too?
Supermoms always do everything perfectly, they have everything under control, their houses are spotless, they are successful at work and they know absolutely all the benefits for their kids (and they put them into practice). They are psychologists, nutritionists, educators, artists, doctors… and even philosophers! I really don’t understand how they make room in their mother’s head to command deep thoughts… My mind is a whirlwind! A convulsive mechanism that tries to prioritize routine tasks and fit them into an agenda as intangible as it is volatile (Yes, my friends, a child makes us the queens of improvisation).
My friend Vicky is just like that, a supermom who knows everything. We call her “Wikifriend”, after Wikipedia. When we call her that, she pretends not to be annoyed; but deep down we know that this nickname infuriates her ego. This “Wikifriend,” can talk with ease about kibble-making tricks as she does about astrophysics. I don’t know if she’s right or wrong in everything she says, but she always talks so convincingly that it’s hard to ignore her. I have to admit, even if it makes me a little angry, some of the things she says make a lot of sense, so in this blog, I will reflect a lot of her teachings, those that, day after day, she transmits to me while we wait for the kids to leave at the school entrance. My sidewalk master, I call her!
Luckily, “Wikifriend” is not like this type of supermom that is always super cool, looking like they just came out of a beauty contest, with their shiny hair loops, their shiny skin just exfoliated; their nails, like porcelain, sculpted on cuticle-less fingers… And their clothes… fashionable and freshly ironed! That’s why I suspect they might be robots, such perfection is not human! I wear an eighties’ hairstyle that looks like freshly licked by a cow; I smell like chicken stew, I cut my nails with my teeth between each stressful conversation with my kids, I spend a bar of concealer a week and I have hair on my legs (more like I think I’m a mother of meat and hair).
I have three kids: Emma, who is six; Mariah, five; and David, one. They all came into this world with a good dose of reality under their arm. Those of you who thought children came with an instruction manual have already realized how naive you were. Perhaps, some of you even thought that they come with a guarantee, in case they have protruding ears. Or, more importantly, if you’re not convinced, you get your money back (in this case, the body you had before the pregnancy). The reality is different, but do not despair: this stage will pass in about 20 years. Then you will be free to go and play briscola or practice ballroom dancing at the Retirement Center. Don’t worry, no one has ever seen a supermom in an old people’s club.
How do those robot moms do it? Did they make a deal with the devil? I don’t know. I pretend to be more realistic, more mundane. This is the logbook of a ship that capsizes but always makes it to port, the blog for real mothers written by a real, realistic mother. I will talk about all those things that, as mothers, worry us, unsettle us, amuse us or make us uneasy, always from a human perspective, practical and undramatized. I don’t want to be a supermom. I don’t. Because even if I fail, even if I make a thousand mistakes, get angry or crazy… for my children I will always be their supermom.
Are you a supermom to your kids, too? Then you’re already part of this journey. Welcome aboard!
Don’t you have time to read our blog for real moms? Don’t worry! You can listen to this podcast while you’re making dinner, for example.