When we lived in Rochester I admired my new friend Mona. We both had young children, I had my two boys Abe my 5 year old and Sammy my hyperactive 18 month old. Mona had 4 children, she was very active at our place of worship. She was cheerful, always volunteering to teach, her dishes for potluck dinners were delicious, she ran the women’s study group, and was beautifully dressed.

I did my best to volunteer as much as I could, but it was a struggle. The process of getting the boys into snow boots, jackets, finding mittens, and securing car and booster seats was tedious and painful, particularly when it was 4 degrees out. We had a comfortable house, but I could never quite catch up with the laundry, Lego‘s, Magna doodles, and boys socks were usually all over the floor, and the elegant master bathtub was full of rubber toys.

We had a happy and full life, but I always felt I wasn’t doing enough, like the other moms, like my friend Mona. I thought she was some kind of Super Mom.

Mona invited me over with my boys for lunch and a play date. She said to follow her by car after a meeting at our place of worship. While I was buckling my boys into their car seats, Mona quickly finished settling her kids in her van and was waiting for me to follow her out of the parking lot. As I followed her to her house I noticed her daughter was walking around in Mona’s van. No wonder she got out of the parking lot so fast, she didn’t put her kids in a car seat! We entered Mona’s house, the walls were covered with crayon and pencil scribbles from her kids, it was horrible looking. We had lunch, and I tried to diplomatically tell Mona that she had to buckle her kids up in the car, when I was distracted by her son sticking a pencil into an electrical outlet that was not “baby proofed”.

After that visit, I decided to be happy with the amount of time I volunteered outside of my home. Mona was a nice lady, but she wasn’t living a balanced life. Even though I couldn’t donate as many hours as my friends I decided I am Super mom.