No Superwoman

I’m not Supermom.

I’m not even a good mom, sometimes.

Lots of times?

We eat store-bought bread.

(And spaghetti sauce. And cookies. And yogurt.)

Somebody else folds my laundry.

I never (and I really mean never) wash all my windows.

Or my floors.

My two year old doesn’t know his colors.

Or shapes.

I don’t get up before my babies In the mornings.

I take a nap every day.

I don’t do it all.

But maybe, just maybe, life isn’t about doing it all.

Maybe it’s about God shining through all our didn’ts and can’ts.

Maybe it’s about learning to accept what is less than perfect.

Even in ourselves.

(please pardon the disjointed thoughts – I’m not myself at three in the morning.)