When you become a doctor, you have to take an oath. Same thing when you become president.
I kind of think it should be a requirement when you commit to being a mom. There should be some sort of oath, right?
As far as a I know, there isn’t.
So I made one.
Here it is…
The Oath Of Motherhood
I will share my knowledge and give advice based on what I have learned since becoming a mom with other moms.
If they ask for it.
Otherwise, I will shut the hell up.
I acknowledge that I do not need to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I will not be ashamed to acknowledge when I need help.
When help is given to me, I will accept it. Freely and graciously. With the understanding that there is no scoreboard and that friends offer help with no strings attached and no expectations of payback.
I will stop feeling guilty and take the fucking help. Because that’s just what moms do for each other.
Because they get it.
I will respect the privacy of my fellow mothers. If they do not want to tell me a secret, I will not pry.
But if they do want to tell me a secret, I will keep that shit a secret.
When my friends don’t return my texts or phone calls immediately (or ever), I will not take it personally.
I will send out birthday party invites knowing full well that half the people I send them to will never respond, but there is a good chance they still show up at the party.
I will not put pressure on myself to keep up with my sister/friend/neighbor.
I will prevent feelings of inadequacy whenever I can.
If I make a lunch that looks like Bert and Ernie out of pomegranates, quinoa, flax seed, and kale, and I post a picture of it on Facebook, I will balance that out with some sort of statement like, My kids didn’t actually eat this, but isn’t it so cute?
And if my kids did actually eat that shit, I will make sure I also share with you the stupid/annoying/disrespectful/infuriating thing they did five minutes earlier to remind you that all kids are a-holes sometimes.
I acknowledge that none of us are perfect. I’m not. You’re not.
In fact, I acknowledge that we are all fucked up to varying degrees. There is a scale of fuckupedness, and while we may move up and down it over the course of a lifetime, we are all on that scale.
I acknowledge that I will be doing 95% of the shit I said I would never, EVER do before I had kids by the time my first child is three years old.
I acknowledge that processed food is probably not the healthiest thing to feed my kids but remember I grew up eating Spaghettios, Twinkies and Pop Rocks and I’m still here reading this, so I should probably calm the fuck down regarding zero tolerance for processed food.
I pledge to not freak out when my kid is still secretly shitting in a Pull Up in his closet when he is four years old and remember that all kids do the potty training thing when they are ready. And that will be before they graduate from high school.
I will be happy for my fellow moms who are experiencing success rather than bashing them or silently cursing them. Because I remember that shit like that comes back to me, and karma is a thing.
I acknowledge that I will fuck up numerous times throughout my kids’ lives.
I acknowledge and accept that I will forget about the tooth under the pillow at least once.
I pledge to not beat myself up when my kid tells me he’s sick, I send him to school anyway, and the nurse calls two hours later telling me he has a fever and needs to be picked up. Because I will definitely do this. Probably more than once.
And finally, I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow mothers.
If my friend’s kid is being an asshole, I will tell her. If I see an inch long black hair growing out of the side of another mother’s neck, I will let her know.
And if I happen to have tweezers, I will offer them to her immediately.
If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and membership in the tribe, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter.
May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of motherhood.
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