Well, okay, the Martha Stewart didn't really die but the one who lives inside of me did. It was the summer of 2008 and she died off the coast of Florida during a family vacation. Looking back it was the perfect storm of marital discord, whiney ungrateful children and a family vacation gone awry that led to her eventual downfall. Here in south Louisiana, everyone goes to the Gulf Coast for fun-filled family vacations on white sandy beaches. They come back with amazing tans and post smiling photos on Facebook. I had lived here for four years at the time and I was ready for my turn! My son had been born 2 years earlier and I felt that it was high time we got in on the family vacation action now that we weren't burdened with a newborn. So we packed up the car and headed east to sunny Florida. My hopes were high.
After being led astray by our GPS, lovingly named "Tammy" (we put Tammy in time-out after this trip), we pulled up to our hotel a little bit grouchy but excited to see where our perfect family vacation would unfold. Let's just say that internet photos don't always tell the whole story. The hotel was nice, clean and right on the beach but it wasn't the swanky joints we were used to so I could see by the look on my husband's face that this wasn't exactly what he had in mind when I told him we would be sunning ourselves on the white shores of Panama City, Florida. I told myself to take deep breath, that it would be OKAY. You see, my inner Martha Stewart had just popped up and pointed out that this was not a perfect place for a family vacation. No problem, I told myself. Mommy will still make this the perfect family vacation! It wasn't long after we got settled in our hotel suite that the little cloud of doom that would follow us around all week started to form above us. Nothing went right. The kids hated the sun in their eyes, the sand on their bodies, the salt-water in their eyes. The husband still wasn't jazzed about the accomodations or the "budget-friendly" food I had brought to cook in our little kitchen in the hotel room and I was starting to crack under the strain. This is where Martha Stewart began to slip away.
As I was listening to the kids complain yet again about spending their day on the beach (the 2 year old was crying more than complaining but annoying all the same) I distinctly remember asking my husband to take over while I took a dip in the ocean. As I was bobbing up and down looking back at my family on the shore I knew that if something didn't give, I was either going to explode or strangle someone in their sleep. I didn't know how this was going to be accomplished but I knew it needed to happen and quick.
The vacation never got better and we ended up coming home two days early. Almost immediately I sought out a therapist that I knew some of my friends had been to see and scheduled an appointment. (I'm not ashamed of admitting to counseling. I think everyone should go at least once in their life and it's the reason that strangling thing never happened.) Within my first session, my therapist pointed out that I had used the word perfect one too many times and recommended some reading material. Turns out, I thought I was Martha Stewart and I found out that I'm not. And that little bit of understanding completely changed my world. Instead of bothering me like I thought it would, it was utterly and completely liberating. I came home and told my family "Martha Stewart has died!" That meant that no more would I worry that the house was a mess, that I still didn't have a rug in the dining room after 3 years, that my photos were still in boxes at the bottom of a closet instead of chronologically placed in albums or that no matter how hard I tried my life never seemed to look like a Pottery Barn catalog. I was FREE!
To this day, I still run into other Martha Stewarts. They are my friends, family members, fellow moms in the trenches. And I'm not sure if they are as stressed as I was at trying to keep all of the plates spinning but I know that I am a better person for having hung up my apron, so to speak. The house is sometimes a mess, and sometimes it's chili out of a can for supper but I am happy. And when Mama is happy, ain't everybody happy.
After being led astray by our GPS, lovingly named "Tammy" (we put Tammy in time-out after this trip), we pulled up to our hotel a little bit grouchy but excited to see where our perfect family vacation would unfold. Let's just say that internet photos don't always tell the whole story. The hotel was nice, clean and right on the beach but it wasn't the swanky joints we were used to so I could see by the look on my husband's face that this wasn't exactly what he had in mind when I told him we would be sunning ourselves on the white shores of Panama City, Florida. I told myself to take deep breath, that it would be OKAY. You see, my inner Martha Stewart had just popped up and pointed out that this was not a perfect place for a family vacation. No problem, I told myself. Mommy will still make this the perfect family vacation! It wasn't long after we got settled in our hotel suite that the little cloud of doom that would follow us around all week started to form above us. Nothing went right. The kids hated the sun in their eyes, the sand on their bodies, the salt-water in their eyes. The husband still wasn't jazzed about the accomodations or the "budget-friendly" food I had brought to cook in our little kitchen in the hotel room and I was starting to crack under the strain. This is where Martha Stewart began to slip away.
As I was listening to the kids complain yet again about spending their day on the beach (the 2 year old was crying more than complaining but annoying all the same) I distinctly remember asking my husband to take over while I took a dip in the ocean. As I was bobbing up and down looking back at my family on the shore I knew that if something didn't give, I was either going to explode or strangle someone in their sleep. I didn't know how this was going to be accomplished but I knew it needed to happen and quick.
The vacation never got better and we ended up coming home two days early. Almost immediately I sought out a therapist that I knew some of my friends had been to see and scheduled an appointment. (I'm not ashamed of admitting to counseling. I think everyone should go at least once in their life and it's the reason that strangling thing never happened.) Within my first session, my therapist pointed out that I had used the word perfect one too many times and recommended some reading material. Turns out, I thought I was Martha Stewart and I found out that I'm not. And that little bit of understanding completely changed my world. Instead of bothering me like I thought it would, it was utterly and completely liberating. I came home and told my family "Martha Stewart has died!" That meant that no more would I worry that the house was a mess, that I still didn't have a rug in the dining room after 3 years, that my photos were still in boxes at the bottom of a closet instead of chronologically placed in albums or that no matter how hard I tried my life never seemed to look like a Pottery Barn catalog. I was FREE!
To this day, I still run into other Martha Stewarts. They are my friends, family members, fellow moms in the trenches. And I'm not sure if they are as stressed as I was at trying to keep all of the plates spinning but I know that I am a better person for having hung up my apron, so to speak. The house is sometimes a mess, and sometimes it's chili out of a can for supper but I am happy. And when Mama is happy, ain't everybody happy.
Thank you, Thank You, Thanks you for sharing your story! Love your blog and I can relate with almost every post I have read! I am so glad to find you! My inner Martha Stewart is now doing party stuff, but is almost controlled in the house. I am following you and waiting to read more!
ReplyDeleteBloggy Mom, Fara
www.littlethingscreations.com
Good stuff Christa! Tucking all this info into my back pocket for the day I need it :-)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Thank You, Thanks you for sharing your story! Love your blog and I can relate with almost every post I have read! I am so glad to find you! My inner Martha Stewart is now doing party stuff, but is almost controlled in the house. I am following you and waiting to read more!
ReplyDeleteBloggy Mom, Fara
www.littlethingscreations.com