Wowing You With Awesomeness

     There comes a point in every yoga class (usually early on) when I think: "Wow, I am impressive.  Look at my form and grace.  Appreciate my flexibility and strength."  Within 5 minutes of this revelation, I am brought back to reality by (a) failing to balance with one foot 4 inches off the ground (b) struggling to hold my arms straight over my head or (c) trying to touch my toes.  This past week we had pilates instead of yoga and I was just thinking how awesome I was doing at the hundreds series.  Less than 5 minutes later I had the instructor kneeling next to me saying "We have to do something about your butt flip-flopping all over the place."  Gee thanks lady, isn't it enough that I'm here?  Couldn't you just go on letting me feel awesome tonight?
     It's the same sensation that occurs to me almost every day before leaving the house, when I think, "What will I do when I arrive so early today?"  And then 10 minutes later I'm struggling to get a wiggler into his jacket, mittens & boots and to remember my tea, lunch and work bag.  So 20 minutes after I stood there naively thinking I would be early, I find myself stuffing the same wiggling baby (who is now in a winter coat) into his car seat, then I find myself rifling through my purse to find my keys only to remember that they are actually in the jacket pocket that I wore... yesterday.
     There are moments when I am wowed by how awesome a mom I am.  We go the grocery store and, because I'm such a terrific mother, I let Liam weigh some bananas and we spend some time talking about measuring weight.  We discuss what makes the tomatoes organic and we stop by to visit the lobsters.  I think to myself, "If anyone is watching, they will surely be impressed."  And then we get to the part of the grocery store that's not as fun.  By the tortilla shells someone starts to complain about wanting to get into the cart (or out of it) and whoever is in the cart starts crying and whoever is out of the cart starts pushing each and every box on the shelf at their height level.  The grocery store starts to get hot.  I start thinking that we have a lot more shopping to do.  I can't find Bill (because I forgot onions so he's back there getting them) and I get flustered. Not so awesome anymore.  Now I can't even make a decision between whole milk or part skim mozzarella.  Suddenly I've got that glazed-over mom look (you know the one I'm talking about).
     In between snow storms we decided we needed to clear our driveway of permafrost.  Bill and Liam started.  Josh and I had second shift.  I was going to be an awesome mom- able to chip away ice on a driveway while giving her son time to play outdoors!  I gave Josh a shovel; because that's what any awesome mom would do to involve their almost-2 year old.  He didn't want the shovel.  I showed him how to throw snow.  He wasn't interested.  I continued to scrape and shovel, scrape and shovel, scrape and shovel.  Josh stood there.  I asked him sweetly if he wanted to go inside but he quickly rejected that idea by turning into jelly when I tried to hold his hand and walk him into the house.  I asked him if he wanted to help Mommy but then he started whining.  I continued to work, offering suggestions for his amusement but it seemed that nothing was working.  Instead of looking like an awesome mom balancing snow scraping and baby playtime, there I was sweaty with an oversized winter coat, scraping at ice while my toddler hugged one of my legs and refused to let go.  Eventually I brought him inside against his will but really, I had to think about my image here.  I wasn't looking very awesome.
     Time after time, I realize that I am only human and at least I am doing the best that I can.  Still, I persist in having those "I'm awesome" moments despite evidence to the contrary.  Perhaps I should just enjoy the "I'm awesome" moment... because that's just what it is, a moment.  Like all moments, it will pass; but with any luck another "I'm awesome moment" will present itself soon.  Like most awesome moments, it will likely be when no one else is around to hear it or see it except the people who really matter the most afterall.