I Have a Dream....

‘...a song to sing. To help me cope with anything’.

Anyone else hear this in their head when they think about having a dream? Especially the Amanda Seyfreid version from Mama Mia. No? Just me then, I guess. Move along, nothing weird here.

This movie is perfect to me, every single time.
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I have a dream occasionally that one day I’ll wake up completely put-together.

You know what I mean, don’t you? Flawless hair, impeccable dress sense and mad skills with makeup, yes. 

But beyond that (and aside from it, really) I dream fervently about being the mum who does it all flawlessly. The mum who breezes out of bed, readies her husband and sends him to work smiling with a belly full of homestyle cookin’ and a lunchbox full of healthy homemade snacks, prepares the kids for school/daycare – again with the excellent food. Cruises to school with all homework complete, helps out in the canteen, comes home and plays with the baby undistractedly for hours. The mum who spends naptime giving her sparklingly clean house a quick once-over and then has a lunch date with friends before going to school pickup and heading home to prepare a thoughtfully planned, nutritionally beneficial meal, clean and tuck in her kids before relaxing with her husband. I dream of doing it all alone, with no snags or flaws, and without tears of pleas for help.

I’m not that mum. If she exists, I want to know about it, because I want to pull her perfectly-coiffed hair and tell her she’s a liar.

This bitch... seriously.
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My dream isn’t going to come true. I’m the mum who isn’t getting out of bed at 5am to get her husband ready for work (seriously, he’s on his own there). I’m the mum fighting the kindergartner to eat her breakfast while the baby flings porridge at my head, at the same time realising we forgot the reader last night and I’ve run out of lunch muffins. I’m the mum who remembers canteen duty 20 minutes before it starts, on a day when I don’t have a babysitter ready. The mum who’s barely left her house in weeks, and hasn’t had a social life in months. I’m the mum who realises at 6pm that she hasn’t defrosted dinner and makes bacon and egg salad, before skipping bathtime and sending the kids to bed so I can have a quick reprieve before the baby wakes.

Maybe if I had animal helpers and a Fairy Godsomeone...
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My heart wishes my kids had the perfect mum. The one who never misses appointments, who reads endless stories every night and who takes them on educationally enriching, yet entertaining trips every weekend. But my head knows the truth about me and the truth about my kids. My head knows that I get to watch them grow, and be their mummy, and that's enough. My head is grateful.

I’m never going to be the put together mum, because it’s not me. I’m the slightly scatty mum wearing yoga pants everywhere. But I’m also the only mum my kids have. I’m the one who kisses their scrapes, smooths away their troubles, plays games with them, cuddles them every single night and generally takes care of them. I’m the one who makes sure they never go hungry, even if occasionally they eat a 2 minute noodle omelette. I’m the one who will always be there. 

I may not be the perfect mum, and how the hell can I be? She’s a myth! But I’m their perfect mum, put together just enough for them. A dream is just a fantasy. I should just be happy I do the best I can. Because in reality? I do OK.

'I'll cross the stream, I have a dream.'

  I'm linking this post with Musings of the Misguided for this week's The Lounge, and also with A Parenting Life for Thankful Thursday. Pop over to visit and find some more fab blogs to read?

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