I have ironed my four-year-old’s shirt for school because I want him to look put together and “proper”. I’ve also let him go to school with toothpaste on his collar and a dried milk mustache.
I’ve never worn slippers to my son’s preschool but I have gone without a bra.
I’ll show up 20 minutes early to pick Lucas up on the first day back to school after Spring Break because I missed him but I’ve also (one time only!) been 13 minutes late.
I’ll make declarations that under no circumstances will I buy anything at the toy store and then cave and get something because I want to play with it too.
I make mundane chores like unloading the dishwasher and sorting laundry seem like games so that my son will help me.
I’ve left the house without diapers or bottles, but enough of Lucas’s favorite snacks to feed a small country.
I’ve handed over my phone at 6:30 in the morning so that Lucas could Angry Birds Go! and I could get a few extra minutes of sleep but I’ve also gotten up earlier than that to make chocolate croissants, pack his lunch and assemble 25 snack bags for his classmates.
I’ll make plans and promises to do something and then let my son down, but I hope I’ve also exceeded his expectations with elaborate outings, surprise play dates and fun after school arts and crafts.
I’ve chased my boy around the park playing hide-and-seek until I was sweaty and out of breath and I’ve also sat quietly on a bench and watched him navigate monkey bars and potential new friends.
I’ve lied and said I didn’t know the answer to one of his million questions and I’ve also taken the time to explain things in great detail, looked up poisonous frogs on the Internet and searched for images of Katy Perry so he could “see what she looks like”.
I’ve tucked Lucas into bed to read on his own and I’ve also kept him up past his bedtime to read all 8 newly checked out of the library books.
Parenting is full of contradictions. Some days it’s more no’s than yes’s, lots of yelling and high levels of frustration and others it’s full of synergy, connection and giggles. You win some and you lose some. My children make me weak and strong and everything in between. I hope they always feel my love.
I’m *that* mom.
The one you sometimes roll your eyes at because she seems to have everything together, all the balls are somehow magically juggling perfectly in sync and she has a total Martha Stewart thing going on or you’ve rolled your eyes and scoffed because she (and her children) appear completely clueless, disengaged and disheveled, she’s late, misses deadlines and always looks like she just rolled out of bed.
Yep, I’m *that* mom.