July 10, 2007
I'm a real black and white kind of person when it comes to self confidence. I either have it or I don't. For example, I've always had a lot of confidence in school. I've found it to be absolutely no problem-o. Seriously, I never cracked a book during my undergrad and I still managed to get out of there with the words Magna Cum Laude stamped on my diploma. I stepped it up during grad school and did about 45 minutes worth of the assigned reading, and boy was it worth it--I walked out of there with a 4.0. Insane.
Now you'd think that my school confidence would carry over into employment confidence. Wrong-o, nope. I am thoroughly convinced that I'm unemployable, or destined to be a babysitter for the rest of my life--and in my book they're pretty much equivalents. Seriously guys, my freaking resume must get converted to Mandarin Chinese when I press send, because I never ever hear back. And on the off chance that I do get an interview, I usually giggle or fart or tell the HR lady that my name is Joan-of-Arc instead of Amy Lawson--it's not pretty.
Marriage? I go back and forth with my confidence as a wife and our mutual compatibility as soul mates. I either feel like Ken and Barbie (sexy and successful) or Adam and Eve (you know...eating the apple and suddenly we're getting evicted by God himself)...it just depends on the day. But I never feel anywhere in between. I'd imagine that it would be nice to feel like Flintstones or the Rubbles most of the time, but I wouldn't know.
But for some reason, one major area where I've really never lacked confidence is mothering. I know, that sounds totally stuffy and self-righteous, but it's true. I like being a mom and I think I'm pretty good at it. From the second they put James in my arms, I was all, "Oh yeah, I can do this...stop sewing me up and take my picture, Doc! I'm good at this and I don't want to forget it!" Even things that would make most people feel like a mediocre mom can't shake my confidence. Here's an example for ya:
About an hour ago, James asked for an apple. We don't have any apples right now, so I let him look through the fridge to see if there was anything else that tickled his fancy. He was taking forever in there...wanting the broccoli and then changing his mind, wanting some yogurt and then changing his mind. Finally I looked at James and just said, "You know what Buddy? Have at it. The fridge is yours. Mommy's going to watch CyberChase on PBS."
10ish minutes later, after my cartoon was over, I went to the kitchen to check on James. There was a bite out of a pepper, a squash, a block of cheese, and the cellophane on the turkey cold cuts. The top was off the tub of butter, and James was sitting on the kitchen floor licking the gunk off of the neck of the ketchup bottle.
Now most moms probably would have been like, "I'm such a loser, why did I let my kid do this?"
But not me. I thought to myself, "Wow, this is an awesome idea. That counts as dinner, James! Why didn't I think of this sooner?!"
So there you have it--I feel good about letting my two year old do his own meal planning, I don't care if there're mini-bites out my diary products, and I probably need a major reality check. But that's just the way I am.