Wonder Woman I'm NOT!

I do not have it all together.  I don’t do it ALL. I am not Wonder Woman and I'm definitely NOT Super Mommy!  

I am just me: a woman who has quirks that I’m sure greatly annoy the people who are the closest to me (thanks for overlooking that most days, guys!!); a woman who has bad hair days and gets cases of sleepy-crabbiness that even a delicious caramel latte can’t fix.

I am not always put together.  I sometimes am reminded of the lovely teen years when I get a facial blemish (translation: zit).  I gratefully salute the Mabeline company most days as make-up is a blessed gift to women.  Every tube and bottle I own is worth every penny I’ve spent as it can make one blah-mama transform into something pretty, something fresh!

I don’t always sing “Hakuna Matata” (“No Worries!”) when one of my beloved offspring floods the bathroom or has diaper blow-outs of various kinds.  Sometimes when this happens, I just want to collapse into a heap on the floor and cry, lamenting the futility of washing clothes, floors and children.  Won’t they all just be messy again in a few hours…or minutes?!

My husband and I try to do the whole “Thirty Minute Rule” where we don’t complain about our days when he gets home from work for the first thirty minutes.  But let me tell you, there are days the smile I give him when he walks through the door is with clenched teeth.  There are days I practice my Lamaze breathing as I try not to have a cow about something crazy that happened in my day (thirty minutes later though I’m giving birth).  There are days I don’t have time to put on some pretty lipstick to look alluring for my man but (thankfully) he still lights up when he sees me in sweats with messy hair.  And that’s just me.

The Boy's Room: only SOME days (other days all items seen above are ON THE FLOOR, etc.)

I love to be organized and I love a clean house.  But if you drop by for a surprise visit at the Cole pad (which I encourage and LOVE), don’t be shocked if my one year old is munching on cereal scattered on our dining room floor because I haven’t had time to sweep yet (is that food covered under the “thirty-second/minute-rule”?).  There’s no guarantee that toy dinosaurs won’t be traveling through the whole house, all sixty four of them…so you may need to watch your step (especially beware of the ones with spikes, this is from personal experience).  And if the throw pillows are actually ON the couch instead of making up the walls of a Narnian castle then I would be the one in shock.  If the boy’s comforters are neatly tucked into their bunk-beds, it’s probably because they are visiting Nana’s house instead of using them as giant super-hero capes.

At play in a tent, big messes=BIG FUN!

And if I said it doesn’t bug me most days to have messes up to my mascara-free eyelashes, I would be lying.  It bugs me.  That’s part of who I am too.  But I also love my kids and their free-spirits more than I love a perfect magazine-cover-home.  And I love being married to a real man that loves a real woman, a woman who is sometimes crabby, pouty, immature and annoying.  A woman who ain’t always a sight for sore eyes.  In fact, sometimes I just make his eyes more sore (ha, ha).

I am Tara Cole and I am a real woman. I love, - no scratch that - ADORE what I do as a stay-at-home mom.  I feel privileged to get to take care of four amazing little gifts from God everyday and (bonus!) one swell guy that brings home the bacon.  But I am not doing it all perfectly, and that’s really okay by me.  

In fact, if my kids thought I always had it all together, how could they learn to be humble?  How could they learn what to do when they fail (because it happens to all of us in many ways and many times)?  When I snap at them for something petty, I get eye level with them and say I was wrong.  When I disrespect their daddy in front of them, that’s the time to show them what forgiveness in marriage looks like.  Is it messy sometimes?  Oh, yes.  But they will do what we do…not just what we TELL them to do.

How could my husband relax with a wife who is always dressed to the nines and couldn’t let him put his feet up at the end of a long day for fear he’ll get our perfect couch messy (by the way, our perfect couch died shortly after the birth of our first child)?  How could my children learn how to use their imaginations if they were too busy picking up all the time and trying to follow a long list of rules?  How could I enjoy me if I was constantly comparing my looks, my home and my family to some perfect woman out there (that really doesn’t even exist).

And let me say, if I don’t relax and enjoy the person I am (and the person I am becoming) then I will have a heck of a time ever enjoying anyone else, especially my family.  If I try to make myself into someone I wasn’t even meant to be then what will stop me from forcing my husband and my children into some silly mold as well? 

Perfection is so overrated.  This is coming from a mom who hopes to bring the messy ponytail back into high fashion as that’s the only look I have time for most days!  I don’t have it all together and don’t want to have it all together.  

What I do want to have together is a family that is bound to one another with love in our hearts.  I want to have friends that love me, quirks and all.  I want to be okay with me, strengths and weaknesses.  And I want to love my friends and family for who they are, messes and all.

The REAL Cole Place:
(with our true to life family pose): one kid not looking, one baby crying, the boys being squished
and dad and mom laughing at it all!