Being a train wreck mom, I’m full well aware that I am not perfect. In fact the more I try to be perfect the worse I fail. I have tried so many times to be that Pinterest perfect mom with the cute lunches and well balanced crock pot meals. my kids trade their lunches for pizza and they wont eat anything that grew from the ground.
I have sent my kids to school sick. I know. But, you have to know my kids. They are always “sick” or “not feeling good.” Short version, I don’t wanna go to school. The Bunny developed a fun habit of making herself throw up on demand at school. This resulted in many trips to the school to pick her up from the nurse’s office. Bonus daughter has a great way of staying up way too late and being too tired to move in the mornings.
Oh and don’t even get me started on make her go to bed. She’s in bed. Make her go to sleep. Tell me: how do you do that? I have taken her electronics. No TV. I sleep near the hall so I can hear if she creeps out. which she has stopped. The kid is nocturnal. We all know plenty of people like that. Anyway. Between the two of them I have a couple of never feel well Nancies. That results in a wonderful phenomenon of Mom doesn’t believe us when we’re sick. Both chuckleheads have been sent home for puking on the bus, coughing so hard they couldn’t breathe, and random spikes in temperatures causing them to become delirious and pass out.
Now, you would think I would be a contrite mom. An apologetic mom. A more kind and sympathetic mom.
That’s when I become even meaner Mom. Then I get to say the same thing other mothers across the world and ages have said: Well, if you hadn’t cried wolf (faked) so many times (all the time) then I would have believed you.
Mean Old Mama.
I make mistakes. A lot. And I feel like I’m failing. A lot. I have a bonus daughter that hates me (not really but it feels like it more than not). I have a four year old that doesn’t eat anything but chicken nuggets, French fries, and boogers. And then there’s the Bunny with more issues than she’d like me to share here. Let’s just leave it at lots of therapy and counseling. Add to that my own depression, anxiety, and ADHD and it’s a whole hot mess here.
Honestly, if I worked at a job where I felt like I failed all the time like I do at parenting, I would have quit. Checked out. Moved on. But you don’t get that option with motherhood. You have to stick with it. And if my mom taught me anything it’s that you don’t stop being a mom once your kid turns 18. This is 24/7/365. I’m pretty convinced it doesn’t stop when you die. And even then I’ll still be screwing this up.
In the end, I just have to hope that I’ve raised semi functional adults that only need counseling once a month. And hopefully they know, I love them. Despite all my fails and flaws, I love them. And that’s my biggest success. In the face of slammed doors in my face, stepping on stegosaurs, and battles over how long shorts need to be, I love my kids. And I think they know I love them, too.
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