The Joy of Motherhood

So, yesterday was Mother's Day. A day when mother's are to be given special treatment for all the wonderful things they do throughout the rest of the year.

Yeah...I think my kids missed the memo.

My mother's day morning was spent trying to avoid my kids as they ran throughout the house chasing each other, wrestling with each other, yelling at each other, and doing their best imitation of the Lost Boys from Peter Pan. Ahhh, such bliss.

Honestly, the noise and the commotion was more than I could take, so I quietly escaped to my room to watch the Food Network and I let my husband deal with the restless natives just outside my door. Not exactly a great way to kick off Mother's Day.

I remember when I was pregnant with Ryan and how I always imagined motherhood would be. I'd fantasize about being the one they would always show on TV. You know the one in the commercials dressed in a white robe holding her sleeping cherub. The picture of serenity filmed through that gauzy soft Cybil Shepherd from Moonlighting lens. Then there was the older mom picking her kids up from school, always stylish and showered as she dashed off to some PTA event. These moms were beautiful. These moms were put together. These moms, as it turned out, were so not me.

My dreams of newborn baby bliss were dashed when both my kids suffered from colic for their first few months of life. As for being the stylish PTA mom, I'm still working on the just being showered part. Yes, I must admit that I sometimes feel as though I have somehow fallen short in my endeavors as a mom. Moreover, there is good reason to think so. I am a "bad" mom because:

I have let my children go days without bathing them and they start to resemble a member of the cast of Oliver Twist (Please Sir, can I have a bath).

I have pretended not to notice when they have picked up some piece of cookie that fell on the floor last week (I also don't clean my floors nearly enough).

I've let Justin get away with things I would never let Ryan do, with the feeble excuse that, "Justin doesn't understand like you do", when what I really mean is, "Justin doesn't understand and I'm not in the mood to turn this into a "teachable moment".

I have eaten yummy treats in the kitchen when my kids were occupied, because I just didn't feel like sharing.

I have given both my kids a nip of melatonin, not because they needed to go to sleep, but because I needed them to go to sleep.

I yell...a lot. Sometimes I even spank. However, the guilt of such acts usually renders me so guilty that I shower affection on them for the days that follow.

Therefore, it is true. I am highly flawed. But sometimes I do get it right. I get it right when:

I read Skippyjon Jones for the 100th time, complete with silly voices.

I always get my kids the Happy Meal because even though I know half the meal will go uneaten, I remember how cool it was to get the toy in the box.

Ryan scores a goal in soccer for the other team, and I still yell "good effort" and mean it.

Justin "escapes" upstairs to his own little world, and I still go up and pull him out, even when I'd rather be relaxing in my chair with a glass of wine and a House re-run.

Ryan asks for "a cuddle" and I rarely say no. And when Justin follows suit and climbs onto my already crowded lap, I know there's no better place to be than beneath that tangle of feet and elbows.

So when all is said and done, I guess I will feel good about being the highly flawed mother that I am, because at least I know that sometimes I do still have my moments.