Social media is great. Until it makes us feel imperfect.
I’ll readily admit that I’m a little bit of an addict when it comes to social media.
Facebook. Twitter. Instagram.
There’s something so delightful and satisfying to see that red notification on your Facebook home page that people have liked, shared or commented on your ever so original post or adorable picture of your daughter, smeared head to toe with spaghetti sauce. But there is one website that sends me right over the edge.
Pinterest.
Yeah, you heard me. That annoying site that makes all of us working moms question our ability to be the perfect mom. Because heaven forbid our children go to their school Valentine’s party with store bought Star Wars valentines or imperfectly decorated cupcakes from a Duncan Hines mix for their birthday party.
Every mom wants to believe they’re the perfect parent.
And that’s never more so the case than with working mothers. The pressure to be perfect, to get it all right, is almost unavoidable.
I vowed to never create a Pinterest account for this very reason. I didn’t need yet another reason to feel guilty for not having the time (or let’s be real, the patience) to whip up picture perfect Oreo inspired turkeys for my child’s Thanksgiving party.
Sadly, it didn’t take long for the pressure of other Pinterest moms to get the best of me and I signed up. And almost instanteously the anxiety set in. Out came the glue gun, fabric, jewels and late nights, creating the most embarrassing display of bunny ears for my daughter’s second birthday party. They were promptly thrown in the trash.
(The Troll headbands I made a couple of years later were slightly more of a success. Slightly)
And it made me wonder: Am I feeling stood up by the “other” moms who labored all night on their Pinterest inspired masterpieces? Will my children look back 5 or 10 years from now and wonder why their party favors were from the dollar bin at Target instead of an original piece of work? And worse yet, am I a bad mother because I didn’t make their lives picture perfect?
My answers were easily found. Instead of seeking acceptance from other moms or the false appearance of perfection, I got down on the floor with my kids and played. Because that’s what they’ll remember.
Forget Pinterest.
I’m spending quality time with what matters. And I’m quite sure that’s what makes me a perfect (working) mom.