Here’s the thing. It’s very easy to look around at other people and think they have it all together. I look at other women and think, “Wow, she’s doing x, and y, and z, and she grows all her own vegetables, and she volunteers, AND her children’s hair is always neatly combed. I’m such a loser!” At the same time, I am sure that all the ways in which I am a loser are obvious to everyone around me. Do I need to just grow up and get over it? Probably. I know nobody’s perfect. I’m starting to realize that I’m not the only woman who looks around and thinks that every other woman around her is doing a better job. And I know that comparing oneself to others is a useless, unwinnable game. Every woman I know is amazing in a different way.
Let me just say, though, that it’s been one of those weeks. Potato batteries, a Shostakovich symphony, books, homemade silly putty, what-are-we-going-to-eat-tonight, five new students, three dreamy kids, math drama, art projects, and not enough sleep—they’re all there, but they just won’t be put in a neat, tidy row right now. And all together, they are stressful. But I love them.
Last Saturday morning I was cramming for book club, baking muffins and boiling an egg. I was feeling slightly pleased with myself for juggling all these things while remaining calm and cheerful, even though I hadn’t gotten enough sleep. Then Middle walked into the kitchen and noticed smoke pouring from the cookbook I had left on the stove (right before I turned the wrong burner on high in order to boil said egg.)
A picture for you, in case you, too, are having one of those weeks:
Let’s hear it for the ducks, in a row or otherwise! I’m thankful for every one.
