Super Mom Interrupted

A few years ago I was sitting in church thinking of how I wanted to write a 10 minute talk to carry with me, in case I was asked to speak or if I met someone who needed to hear my message. I don’t remember where I heard about the ’10 minute talk idea’ but I liked it so I wanted to try it. I didn’t know what the talk would be about but I let my mind wonder, said a prayer, and within minutes I was typing away on my iPad. The words just flowed onto the screen so I kept typing until I felt like I was done. Not 10 minutes worth but it’ll do.

This is my story. Not just a story I wrote, it’s My Story. I didn’t realize I felt this way about my role as a Mother until I typed the words. The first time I read it, I cried….the ugly kind of crying, not the single glistening tear kind, it was ugly.


“In my house, behind my bedroom door, is a hook where my invisible cape hangs. Over the years, its become more and more tattered and torn. The edges are frayed, the fibers are thinning, and the sparkle is more of a light shimmer. It collects dust in between use and each night before bed I notice my cape and hope I’ll feel worthy to wear it the next day. Every once in a while, when the time is right, I put my cape on and wear it for the day. Then, hang it up and wait for the next day I’ll feel worthy to wear it again. 

“If you ask my kids about my invisible cape, they’d know exactly what it is and where it hangs, and that it’s not so invisible at all.  They’d say it sparkles and shimmers as if it were brand new and that it flows gracefully behind me wherever I go. They might even comment on how the cape can change, almost like it shares my personality; becomes warm and caring in times of needed comfort, firm and straight when choices are off course, and on most days….flying high almost as if it was filled with joy and dancing in the wind. They’ll remember countless memories of me wearing the cape and I’m guessing they will all agree that it sometimes smells like homemade cookies.

If you asked them why it hangs on a hook most days, they’d look confused, and ask what you mean. Confused yourself, you’d ask again and they’d say, it doesn’t hang on a hook, or a hanger, or stored in a closet, it only hangs from my shoulders as it always has. “

What if we could see in ourselves, what our children see? Can you even imagine it? I asked my 7 kids to read the story and give me feedback, they all agreed, especially about the homemade cookies. 🙂

Since writing this story I’ve worn my cape with honor everyday! Motherhood didn’t get any easier but it got more fun and I’m much nicer to myself than I used to be….making me a better mom.

If you’re a mom struggling, I see you, I understand. I hope this story helps you see how important you really are to your kids.

Until next time….

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