Supermom

Ever since we moved here, and especially after Zara was born, friends back home have regularly asked, “How do you do it?” Whether they have babies of their own or not, there seems to be a mystery surrounding my new lifestyle. I’m ready to talk about it.

One goal we promised to fulfill during our stay here was to make everyday all about our little family. So I wholeheartedly embraced my role as the primary caregiver, the mother, the cook, the housekeeper, and the friend to our babies. Consequentially kind and well-meaning friends, my husband included, have proudly referred to me as a “supermom”. But I respectfully disagree.

I’m far. Very, very far from my support network. I’m exclusively a stay-at-home mother and housewife. I can count on my fingers how many times I have actually spent time with the very few friends I have made here. But I’m not complaining. Not at all.

There have even been easy days, hard days, and harder days. Days when I’ve felt guilt, days when I’ve felt pride. I have done things right. I have done things wrong. Tears have been shed. Knees have been scraped. Heavy diapers. Hungry tummies. Runny noses. Cold fingers and toes. Boredom. Mischief. Tantrums. Laughter. Discovery. Imagination. Colourful storybooks. Tight cuddles. Sweet kisses. Warm blankies. Yummy fruits. Endless dancing. Excitement at the playground. Nursery rhymes in the car. The list goes on.

But none of this makes me a superhero. I cut myself slack as often as possible because I’m human. Letting myself feel the wave of emotions that come with this job. I’m a real mom, not a supermom. I’m not reinventing the wheel, but just taking it for a spin one day at a time. I don’t have a user manual or special powers. I just strive to be super at simply being a mom.