The Perfect Mother

I’ve had it!  Can I get a show of hands of all those other mothers who’re fed up with the myth of the “perfect” mom?  For Pete’s sake, I’m constantly reminded of how I fall short in the mothering department!  Their little ones wear only the finest designer duds, eat only organic produce and hormone-free milk and, perish the thought of allowing a vaccine to enter their little systems.   These women never yell, volunteer for all sorts of community and school endeavors, have home-cooked meals on the table every night and I’m fairly certain  they never tell their husband “No”. 

My kids are the ones that will find the 6 month old grape, shriveled to its raisin-y perfection under the sofa and proceed to eat the dog-hair encrusted thing.  Yes, the occasional donut passes their lips, not to mention chicken nuggets, hamburgers and those detestable boxed lunches you find in the cold cuts section of the grocery.  You could eat off my floor…some people have the “5 second rule”.  Ours is more like 20 seconds and it’ll probably boost your immunity and render you dog-allergy free.  I don’t insist on nightly baths.  I gingerly sniff their hair and proclaim them “clean enough”.  Don’t ask about the time I actually sniffed an armpit…oh, Lord!  And at my son’s age (11), it doesn’t matter how much or how often he scrubbs, he still smells like the hind-end of a water buffalo.  Their clothes come from that great capitalist evil, Wal-Mart and I’m sure are loaded with all sorts of gawd awful chemicals.  No unbleached organic cottons for us!  No, sirree!!  And yes, we vaccinate.  Religiously.  The worst we’ve encountered is fever and “soreness at the injection site”.  Well, duh, of course it hurts at the injection site.  Someone jabbed a needle into them.  I’ll take that over polio any day.

Today is the start of their Spring Break.  Lucky devils, since they go to private school they’re getting 2 extra days off for the teacher’s to attend a conference.  We spent our morning running errands.  Paige’s hair is cut…you know, she really does have a face under all that!  We visited the bank and loaded up on lollipops (thanks Miss Candy…that’s really her name), the grocery where I purchased pesticide sprayed fruit and veggies, the bookstore and topped it off with a stop at Sonic.  They were real troopers, no complaints, no fighting.  I occasionally checked each one for a pulse.  And when we got home, do you know what they said to me?  “We love you Mom.  You’re the best”.

No, I’m not perfect.  But I am “me”.  My children love me, my husband loves me; and I love them with everything my imperfect little heart can hold.  They’re mine and I’m theirs.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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