When Mom Reality Doesn’t Measure Up To Mom Fantasy.

Mom Fantasy

Best. Summer. Ever. We we’re going to have three months of Insta-worthy fun. Swimming pool at all hours of the day, glow stick parties, museums, play places, popsicles galore. 

Mom Reality

Two weeks into summer vacation, I had a mystery allergic reaction. The allergy made me sick, the medicine made me sicker (turns out I’m extremely sensitive to steroids and allergy medicine), and my paranoia made it all worse. Buh-bye, best summer ever. 

Can you relate to some of these?

• Fantasy: We’re going to relax on the beach and watch the children splash and build sand castles.
• Reality: Let the epic sunscreen showdown commence. 

 

• Fantasy: Picnic at the park. He’ll chase butterflies and I’m going to get an amazing picture of him on the swings. 
• Reality: You were kicked in the nose during the swing picture and ended up wrestling away a cigarette butt your toddler found on the floor.

 

• Fantasy: This first birthday party will be perfect, down to the smash cake picture and little chalkboard signs.
• Reality: Months of planning and stress all so that your one year old can fall asleep in the middle of the party. But you do still have those chalkboard signs, so there’s that. 

 

Here’s the thing, mama’s. It’s ok to want that beach vacation, park giggles, and adorable smash cake photo. You can want it all. But what do you do when your fantasy and reality don’t match up? 

As my ex-military husband says: AIO. 

Adapt. Improvise. Overcome. 

I’m slow to adapt, I’ll admit it. I tell my husband he needs to give me time to grieve the loss (dramatic, I know, but it’s true). Here’s what I learned this summer: Improvising and overcoming take the pressure away. I didn’t have to worry about what was supposed to happen, and instead I focused on what was happening in that moment. 

My kids fell in love with Harry Potter because I laid on the couch and read them book after book. We played board games, and they watched more TV than an otherwise healthy me would’ve allowed. We colored and talked and snuggled, staying in our pajamas all day long. They even figured out how to make their own lunch. 

On our first day back at school, my son’s teacher asked him about his summer. His response?

Best. Summer. Ever.