Like most of you, I do not have yearly monogrammed certificates carefully centered in matching 8×10 wood frames hanging on my wall announcing my Mom of the Year awards. I don’t have a plethora of trophies mounted on the fireplace with metallic plates engraved with things such as “My Mom is Better Than Your Mom” or “Best Parent” (kidding, I totally have one. Thanks Disneyland!) And I certainly don’t have a crown and sash embroidered with my reigning title of “World’s Best Mom”. Although I do look utterly fantastic in a bejeweled tiara and prom dress.
One of the most liberating feelings of motherhood is reaching the epiphany that no matter how hard you try, regardless of what you do or don’t do – you will never be Perfect. There is no such thing as the perfect mom. In a land of unicorns and pots of gold at the end of every rainbow, maybe, but here and now being imperfectly perfect is what makes us the best parents for our own kids.
I yell more than I would like. I try to keep my cool, but everyone has a breaking point. Mine just happens to be on the 9th time I’ve asked you to take out the trash in your bathroom.
I say “no” far more often than “yes.” I’m sorry, but if you’ve eaten 17 cookies, chances are you aren’t getting 18. And when, at 13 years old, you ask for a night at a hotel with your friends, I’m going to say no every. Single. Time.
I spend far too much time on my phone or in front of a computer screen. Usually it’s to drown out Treehouse, or the incessant bass coming from the locked door of the teenager, but it’s often, and it’s becoming a problem. Mostly with my contact prescription, but a problem nonetheless.
I make mac and cheese and fishy crackers for lunch on a regular basis. Dinner, too. Nothing wrong with tartrate yellow #5 dye right?
Sometimes, Netflix is my babysitter. I use TV to parent much more than I’d like to admit. But quiet time doesn’t come without a price and in our household, it’s my children’s ability to tell the difference between fact, fiction, and drama. I’m sorry.
Other times, I use bribery to avoid conflict. I’m not proud of the arsenal of tricks up my sleeve, but a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do to get the kitchen floor washed. And don’t get me started on Flinstone’s Chewables: Currently they’re a reward for good behavior. Shhhhhhhh!
I’m not patient. I’m selfish at times. I’d rather watch my recorded shows than another episode of Toopy and Binoo. I eat what’s left on their plates without asking. I even sneak into their pudding snacks after they’ve gone to bed. (OMG the pudding Monster was here in the middle of the night!) I’ve forgotten the tooth fairy more times than I can count too. And Santa Claus has been a real dick when money has been tight.
I’m sorry kids that I haven’t been the perfect Mom. But I am not sorry for loving the shit out you. I’m not sorry, for even one second that I decided to become a Mom in the first place. It’s ridiculously cheesy, I know, but it’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done with my life – Hands-down.
There is nothing better than the crooked grins from both of you each and every morning. My favorite moments are when you both snuggle in close and steal the covers or when you plop on the couch and lay your heads in my lap.
I’m not a perfect mother, not even close. Often I think being a mother makes me even more aware of my shortcomings and realization is once again, quite liberating as a parent. More important than being a perfect Mom though is our intentions to be the BEST mom that we can be in each and every moment. Some days, our best will even be sub-par but other days, our kids will feel like we are superheroes.
I love my children. And that seems to be enough to overcome my faults. Or so they tell me.