Personally there’s nothing I’d like us moms to shake off more than the whole garbage notion of mom guilt. I’m sick and tired of feeling sick and tired over every decision I make…aren’t you?
But also, I feel guilty all the time. Even though in an overall sense I know I’m a good mom and really like who I am as a human! It’s bonkers. And I’m tired of bonkers. I want peace of mind. I’m demanding more for myself. More peace. More calm.
Recently I’ve been seeing the phrase BDE pop up all over my instagram. And unlike lit and shook I was actually interested to look it up. One quick pop onto my old standby, Urban Dictionary, and I was laughing my butt off. And then in fact I was a little shook.
Much to my surprise it has an incredibly positive message – the complete security of not needing other people’s benchmarks – wealth, intelligence, beauty or well…. a big d…. to know your worth.
Okay so it’s a little in your face and bawdy. But I’m telling you, that’s exactly what I need – the complete security of not needing other people’s benchmarks on how to raise my family and run my mom life.
I’m calling it BIG MOM ENERGY.
BME is the complete security of not needing other people’s benchmarks, opinions, or validation to know your worth as a mama. BME means leaving behind all the mom guilt, second guessing, and comparison games from your old mom life and walking with your head up into 2019 confident that you are doing your damn best.
Here’s what I’m leaving behind in 2018.
Everybody’s opinions about my son’s binky. Even when, especially when, it’s my parents opinions.
My nerves on whether all the other parents in the room are older than me and any ridiculous insecurity I feed off with that on how that changes their perception of who I am as a mother. Spoiler alert, they don’t give AF.
My guilt that I’m raising two Florida babies who aren’t already Olympic swimmers.
My worry that I’m not as cool as the other moms because I drink less and just want to eat snacks when I’m invited for a night out.
My guilt that I feed the kids frozen waffles every single morning for breakfast, frozen meatballs and chicken nuggets weekly. My lord, I feed them so many chicken nuggets.
My anxiety that I scar them for life every time I’m not completely happy and smiling or because I yelled.
My guilt when I don’t take them to the doctor the minute they start coughing and sneezing.
My guilt that we don’t go to Disney as often as the other kids. Yes dear readers, this is the most specific Orlando Mom guilt you could ever have. And I have wrestled with it a lot.
My guilt that when I’m late to the class party my son will think nobody loves him.
My guilt that when the daycare calls me at work my first reaction is stress that my plan and to-do list for the day is about to be chucked out the window over a fever.
My comparison and spiral into not-enoughness next to every other parent who looks like for that one second they have their crap together just a smidge more than me. Especially when I know that we’re all just trying to make it through the day. Every damn day.
