Measuring Up

Photo by Laura Leavell
www.levelsolutions.net

Remember the measuring tape Mary Poppins carried around in her crazy bag? 

The tape that didn’t measure your height, but measured your nature instead? Remember that thing? 

I’ve been thinking about that tape measure since my daughter’s dance class last night. And what I'm thinking is, Man! That thing is a hideous tool of devilry. 

If you are thinking, relax woman it is just a movie, I’m going to ask you to consider the stressed out look on the faces of so many mommies as they strive to reach “Practically Perfect in Every Way.” Consider that look and try to tell me that those moms aren’t using something to measure up to. 

That damn tape measure is real. Really, real. I face it each day.

I saw a friend measure herself with it last night as she realized she’d sent her husband home with their other kids and the treats for the holiday party too. Her daughter didn’t care that she didn’t have treats to share. The other little girls didn’t care that she didn’t have treats to share. No one cared. No one but the poor mom who held that tape measure up to herself and read, “You Suck.” 

I watched as mommy guilt opened its giant jaws and swallowed her whole, and I thought, She's way too good a mother to be eaten alive like this. But once that monster starts in on a woman, it is hard to get it to back off. 

Measuring tapes -- fiendish little inventions.

I’m talking about a good mom here. A real mom with four kids and one on the way. Four nice, loving, kind children. The kind of kids who take a break in the middle of their little dance performance just to run over and give mommy a quick hug and kiss. 

This is the kind of mother whose measuring tape should scream, “You are Loved,” or “You are Valuable,” or “You are a Rockin’ Woman!” Not, “How could you forget that the treats are in the way back of the mini-van? Idiot.”

So today, I’m keep thinking about my friend and her crappy measuring tape that lies to her like a snake. When I’m not feeling angry about that tape, I’m feeling pretty much like the next time I see her, I’m going to rip that thing out of her hands and run like crazy to throw it under the next eighteen wheeler that comes barreling down the highway. 

I might try throwing mine under the wheels too. 

Yep. Think that’s what I’ll do when I see her next.