So here's what got me laughing, reading, or wasting time on the interwebs for the last little bit of time:
aka The Measure of the Parents' Ability to Plan in Advance & To Be Organized to Actually Get the Mold Growing in time, etc.
(Click on the picture to read the Huffington Post article that came out this week)
First off, I want to say, "Yesss".
Secondly, I thought, "I thought this was just us".
Isn't that what makes something hilarious? Or a meme go viral?
Life's little hi jinks brought forth in truth with a dash of sarcasm and in community so we can say a collective,
So, I guess all over America, in little towns, pre-planned communities, great metropolis centers, there is a quiet desperation that is nagging all of us in the middle of February. Not just, where is that pesky tax statement?
But can my kid get it done? Okay, let's be honest, can I get it done?
Kids need help and my goal is to encourage, teach, assist my child through this rite of passage like the research paper and those dratted index cards. I deeply love my children, but nothing gets me more red in the head, than the realization the week before that honey takes 3 weeks to crystallize (I actually have no idea how long it takes....yet). Or that the project chosen is too expansive and that there is no way to do "good science", i.e., the scientific method with such a vast topic. And your docile child is now become a stickler for rules, because they turned in their idea already for approval and it is too late to change.
The science fair project is more of a statement on my capability to parent and to prepare my child for the future (No, taxes aren't due April 17th). There are deadlines to be met.
Procrastination is the steady companion, panic is our energy.
Then, you show up on that day with a tri-fold display board in the trunk, flying high on coffee, bleary eyed, and thankful that they got 'er done and your brood all brushed their teeth. As you look at other kids' projects displayed on banquet tables in unending rows, you have to fight the inner critic that says,
"Their parents MUST have helped them!"
Oh, the need to compare ourselves.
Vacillating between, "How did or do they do it? I am so inadequate"
and the opposite extreme:
"Well, at least I am not as bad as that mom."
Ladies and gents, you are at that mom. You are just as needy like I am even if you have your ducks in a row. If you struggle with trying to measure up or feeling just a tiny bit arrogant that you got it all going on.
Just stop. Stop. That desire to compare is a voice from the basement or the pit of hell as I affectionately call it.
This is the human struggle with sin for suburban parents:
We compare our insides with others' outsides.
We need to be rescued from...ourselves.
So, when the whispers of inadequacy or the judgment of others' messy lives, start to form in your heart, what do you do?
To whom, do you turn?
Let's discuss in the comments! Is it worthy to have a lens shine into our hearts? I want to hear what do you do when you start the dance of comparison. What are the truths that you hold on to?
Grace and Peace to you!