Have you ever bumped in to one of those hippie moms in the grocery store? You know the type: looking at organic produce, talking to her 4 year old daughter about saving the whales, and whining about GMOs? (Well, I just described myself, and I’m sure there are less obsessive hippie mommas out there, but I’m not one of them.) Have you ever had an absolutely awful experience with one? Something that tainted you forever against bell bottom wearing caretakers? Well, from the mouth of a self professed hippie mom, here are seven truths about hippie moms (that we usually won’t admit):
Sometimes, even we don’t like other hippie moms.
Trust me, we get it. There’s nothing more annoying than someone interrupting you mid-sentence to condescendingly ask why your child isn’t in a toddler meditation class (or scream at you because you decided to vaccinate your kids, let them eat GMO ice cream on their birthday, etc). We just roll our eyes, chant mantras in our heads, and remember that killing people is frowned upon. Not all hippie moms suck, but the ones that do really suck, and we’re right there with you all of you non-hippie moms on that one.
The grocery store makes us want to cry.
If you happen to spot us in the grocery store with five pens in our hair and a look of desperation on our faces, it’s because we’re about 5 seconds away from a certified, 100 % organic meltdown. (Most) hippie moms have their families on an alternative diet, whether that’s vegetarian, waste-free, vegan, or GMO-free, we’ve learned quickly that the commercial grocery stores are not our friends. I highly suggest that you smile and walk on by, because if you actually ask what’s wrong, you might just get a thirty minutes explanation about how Monsanto is evil, everything is made by Monsanto, and we just don’t know what to do anymore.
We create far more waste than we’re comfortable with.
We are all about the recycling chant. Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. And, most days, we’ve got the last two steps down. However, kids are kids, and my hippie-mom-raised kid produces just as much trash as yours does (which does drive me crazy, just in case you were wondering). I promise, we know it just as much as you do; we just don’t like to discuss it.
We lose our marbles (probably about as often as every other mom out there).
Sometimes, on a Sunday morning, when Big Fit #3 hits before 10 a.m., not even a huge cup of tea, a bundle of burning sage, and a meditation soundtrack will save us. On those days, we’ll admit that we may or may not have debated whether or not we should just bash our heads against the wall until we knock some zen back into our bodies.
We might be, but our children are not zen.
No amount of meditation and no handful of crystals is going to stop our toddlers from letting the most minor things set them off. We may have gained clarity or control through our alternative practices, but we often forget that a significant amount of that came from emotional and physical development. (Personally, I’m more concerned about raising a polite, potty trained toddler than a prodigy, and the majority of hippie moms are too).
We forget to take care of ourselves a lot.
We could list off the various steps of a well-designed self-care routine faster than we can throw together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The problem is that we don’t always have time to follow through with those steps after we finish making that sandwich, cutting the crust off, and praying it doesn’t end up all over the white carpet that we can’t figure out why we bought.
When given the choice between sleeping in and yoga, we often lie about choosing yoga.
Mom’s gotta sleep when she’s gotta sleep, and considering how often we forget about every other personal need (see #5) we
usuallysometimes choose sleep over important, balancing exercise, and we’re probably going to lie to you, and everyone else, about it in hopes that if we act like we’ve got it together then we just might actually pull it off one day.
(It’s actually eight, and I lied to you, but this is the most important one.)
We’re no different than any other mom out there.
There is no amount of meditation in the world (that I’ve experienced, anyway) that will change the fact that being a mom is the hardest job in the world, and we know that. At the end for the day, we don’t care about you raising your children as omnivores any more than you do about ours being vegetarians. We’re all just faking it till we make it and hoping that the kids turn out okay, and we need to stop worrying about looking down on the mom next to us and lift her up instead.
It doesn’t matter if you’re a hippie mom, a gym rat mom, a work-her-butt off mom, or an all of the above mom. You’re a mom, and you wake up every morning and do the hardest job in the world, so kudos to you!