My superwoman cape is a luxurious purple fabric with fuchsia pom poms dangling from the edges. The fabric itself repels stains and it sparkles with the slightest of movements. When I put it on I feel empowered, strong, beautiful. And, it really coordinates well with just about every outfit and any occasion. It is one of those pieces that is cherished by me and admired by others. It is the cape I wear to conquer my days with that unrelenting force that emanates grace in the middle of a shit-storm; the right words to soothe an anxious mind; the listening ear for a sad heart. My cape allows me to jet from spaces to places and also get all the things done. It protects me from the judgement that often resides within this parenting gig.
However, my superwoman cape is nowhere to be found. And, truly I have searched for it through meditation and long walks in the shaded Rocky Mountains. I dig for it when I dance to country music in my kitchen. I pray for it before I turn off the lights each night – hoping that it will appear with the next day’s sunrise. Yet, I still can’t find it.
I know that when something is missing it is always smart to think about the last time and place of its appearance. When I ponder this question, I am presented with moments before our last year that really shook our lives. I remember wearing it one day in March 2020. It was one of those big bucket days with therapy appointments after school, meetings through out my morning, a birthday party to plan for, lunches to pack, and goodnight books to be read. I wore it that day – and I conquered everything. And then I took it off somewhere. But where?
I need it more than ever right now as life attempts to return to normal. I need it to nurture the fearful thoughts of returning to school with all other students. I need my superwoman cape to jet set between meetings and appointments. It would really come in handy on the nights when I get home from a days work to speedily cook a meal for my kids (and me, of course) and then take the dogs on a beautiful, long walk. The cape would offer me crystal clear vision about what tomorrow holds – and that, yes, everything will be okay.
Is anyone else missing their superwoman cape?
I’m afraid that if I don’t find it soon that I’ll forget how to do it all. I might even start to crave moments of nothingness and perfect downtown. I might start to remember what it felt like to be so perfectly displaced from the day-to-day hustle of being everything to so many. If my cape doesn’t appear soon, it may become obvious that I’m not the superwoman some believed me to me.
And, then the big question of “am I okay with NOT living up to this reputable name?”
My answer, in short, is an empathic yes! Why you may ask? Why would I prefer not to be able to do it all and get everything done? Well, I simply miss all the moments in between. I miss the sticky-fingers that squeeze my cheeks and ask for another piece of chocolate cake. I miss the impromptu outings to parks because there are dishes to be scrubbed and floors to be vacuumed. I miss the knock-knock jokes, the early morning snuggle time, the tug-o-war playtime with my dogs. I miss the parts of my life that actually make my life whole.
So, if you do find my luxurious superwoman cape you are welcome to keep it. You can certainly try it on and it may just fit. For me and as nonsensical as this may seem, I prefer the imperfections of motherhood. I like rickey bumps and the occasional unmade bed on any given weekday.
I do caution you, though, if you decide to keep this cape.