I was texting with another mom of a large family today. We were texting back and forth about her upcoming adoption. She texted “I got my first comment about what a saint I am.” I welcomed her nomination for sainthood, and to the sisterhood. The Sisterhood of the Sainted Mothers through Adoption.
She has just gained her official membership. Every mother through adoption does the first time someone makes a comment about what a saint we are for having adopted. Those comments become even more frequent when you become a large family.
Sainthood for mothers actually isn’t actually a thing. No matter how badly we want it to be. I’ve made no secret about how perfectly imperfect I am. If you follow me on Facebook I make jokes about my swearing, boozing and occasionally absolutely crap parenting. My kids would line up to be the very first to tell you about all the mistakes I make.
I hope they all have their own blogs someday. I’ll sit in the nursing home and fill their inbaskets with so many comments they won’t know what to do with themselves. I’m giggling even now at that mental image. Brady is getting it first.
Seriously though, I can be ridiculous. I’m Type A. I can’t stand mess (can you imagine? In a house of 13 people, I can’t stand mess). I’m not easy to be married to. In fact, I’d say I’m awful to be married to. I have ridiculously high expectations of absolutely everyone around me, including myself. I’ve been in therapy for forever now. I have baggage in the form of my non-existent family relationships. All this is on top of my love of swearing, wine, and on top of the intermittent crap parenting choices.
No one will be submitting my name for canonization anytime soon.
As I was texting with this friend I confided in her that this large family thing can be isolating. It’s not the children, or even their special needs that isolate me, it’s the idea of the Sisterhood. People think I’m unapproachable because I absolutely must be perfect. After all, I’m raising all these great kids. I am. But they’re not perfect either. I just don’t tell you about their screw ups. I tell you about mine instead. This is my journey to talk about.
I have to imagine that people wonder why I live so much of my life on social media, discussing things that other people might deem way too personal. I do it to combat the isolation. Aren’t you so much more likely to come and talk to me at a social function if you know that I swear, love wine and sometimes scream at my kids and husband like a harpy? Because, maybe you do too.
We’ll need to rename the Sisterhood.
–FullPlateMom, who hopes you’ll bring your suggestions to the comments.