Embracing mom-hood

I'm learning to embrace my mom-hood.

It's kind of like man-hood, but with boobs.

And a whole lot of other stuff.

I have recently learned something about myself.

Something that has never dawned on me before.

I'm insecure in my parenting.

I don't know why,

I really am a pretty darn good mom.

I can only remember one time with my kids got in trouble in school.

Abigail was in kindergarten and she got written up for writing on her desk. In pencil.

What can I say? She was my first.

My kids are well-rounded.

They are kind for the most part.

Why should I be insecure?

I am now going to resist listing their good traits.

Because I am trying to learn to NOT need to do that.

It's not healthy.

My kids are MY KIDS.

What else do they need to prove to me?

Nothing.

They don't need to be a certain way for me to love them.

And they certainly shouldn't need to be a certain way for me to love me.

So in honor of embracing my impeerfections as a parent,

and in honor of the vulnerability 

that I've been learning about in Brene Brown's book.

Here is the kind of mom I am NOT.

1- I am not an overly anal car-seat parent.

I don't believe in making my kids ride in a car while suffocating.

(After posting this photo on facebook it was brought to my attention

that the straps should be tighter and the harness higher.)

Whatever.

I also usually don't remember to remind my kids 

to put on their seat-belts til we are at least 

out of the driveway and usually we are down the street a ways.

2- I hope to have one more baby to test this next mom item out,

but I don't believe I will ever be one of those wrapper moms.

Kind of like rapper mom, 

but with a big long blanket that goes around your whole body.

And inside the blanket is a baby,

wrapped to your body.

Clinging to you for their very life,

like a car-seat will kill their brain cells.

Hmm, maybe I am a car-seat mom after all.

I am a total believer in the baby carrier.

Always have been, and I believe I always will be.

I also secretly hope that my hubby would never

be a wrapper-dad.

I just don't find it sexy at all.

Unless we are in the African jungle,

and it would be the only way to keep the baby safe.

You know straddling his chest,

while he takes his machete to fight off the warthog,

that might be sexy.

3-My three year old goes to bed with a 

sippy cup of chocolate milk every night.

It is just a little bit of chocolate

and we only added the chocolate because my mom

ruined the perfectly good white milk on her last visit.

I have no intention of changing this tooth decaying habit

until  my dentist tells me I have to.

It's hard enough to get the kid to bed,

and at least we can bribe her with the cup.

And let's face it,

I'm soooo over it by 10 pm

when we finally get her to bed.

4-I put my three year old to bed at 10 pm.

If any of you would like to come over and wrestle her to sleep earlier

or keep her from her 4:00 nap every day,

more power to you.

5- In the summer my kids and I stay up til midnight

and we all usually sleep in until at least 10 am.

I always laugh at the parents who say they would love

for their kids to sleep in,

but, "THEY JUST WON'T,

I've tried keeping them up."

Yeah, well, you have to keep them up for longer than one night.

Keep them up late for a week,

and I promise they will sleep in.

I think some parents take pride in their

early to bed, early to rise schedule.

I might be one of them if I could ever do it.

6- I really really love Little Ceasar's Pizza

and Taco Tuesdays at Del Taco.

I wish my hubby would let us eat out every night.

I don't really enjoy cooking

unless I am in the mood to bake.

I'm a good cook,

it's jut not my thing.

7-I only change my kids sheets as needed.

Sometimes we can go a couple of months,

especially when they sleep on top of their comforters.

A few dead skin cells

obviously doesn't kill them.

8- I only scrub my showers on a bi-monthly basis.

Get over it.

9-I make my kids fold their own clothes

and let their drawers be messy

if that's how they roll.

10- I yell at my kids,

but try to minimize that to

only once a day,

and even then I save the

really angry tone

for the big time

(like when they run in the street

and almost get hit by a car)

and then I hug them real tight

because I am so relieved that they didn't get themselves killed.

All while secretly knowing

it wouldn't have been themselves

to get themselves killed,

but my crappy parenting.

And there you have my worst fear.

I am totally anxious about my kids

growing up.

I don't want them to be living proof

that I was the crappiest mom in the world.

Oh but Alice,

the only thing a parent needs

to be a good parent is love.

Well, if I could just convince myself of that

then I might be ready for what awaits me.

Please God, don't let them go to jail

or get in a car accident

while not wearing their seat-belt.

The six cavities I can handle,

and the emotional immaturity,

and the inability to organize,

and the one who calls home from school once a week

because she needs more love,

and the whole nail polish kit

left outside for a week

with most of the caps off,

(they were outside because

they've been banned from inside)

the couches with marker stains,

the occasional B on a report card,

the one who is just like her dad,

and the other one who is just like her mom,

and the one who just never shuts up,

ever.

I can handle all of that,

and probably a lot more than I realize,

but my prayer

is that you don't let any physical harm

come to them because of my

inabilities and weaknesses

and the fact that I didn't want them

strapped to my chest

because I was just happy

for them to do their own thing.

So that I could do mine.

Please make sure your 

guardian angels make up the difference.

Because really,

that's all a mom can do.

Admit it.

Get over it.

And leave it in the hands of God.

Now, the way this works is you tell me something

about your parenting that makes you vulnerable

and then we leave our kids at home

with their dad while bonding over Olive Garden breadsticks.

You can tell me that you are really good at all of the above,

only if you are willing to dish out a list of 10 of your own

where you suck.

Because perfectionism is a myth,

and the sooner we all embrace that,

the happier we will be.