SO I decided a while ago that I was going to be one of those mom’s who wasn’t too hard on themselves. One of the mom’s who knew that as long as her kids were happy, healthy and making a mess, that I shouldn’t give myself too much shit about being perfect. I was going to be a half-assed housewife and have happy kids who are a joy to be around.
I am a half-assed housewife and my kids are happy… that is all. Kidding. They are a joy to be around usually, but I have been having a tougher than normal time convincing myself that I am doing a good job.
It’s easy to be the World’s Okayest Mom when the kids are behaving decently. It’s easy to be the mom who lovingly enjoys and nurtures them when they are following the routine I painstakingly constructed over the course of years. It’s easy to be the pretty-good mom when the kids are enjoying themselves in some planned activity or semi chaotic fun, or even what the fuck are you doing chaos, so long as they are smiling and happy it’s easy to believe that I am doing a decent job at this parenting thing.
And then someone has a bad day. Or we all have a bad day. If Big-O (Oliver) gets a hair up his ass and decides that he’s got something to say about everything and starts to Sass talk I can handle it with a reasonable temper, because at least my two little angels are being… angelic. If that happens, I’m still an alright mom. But what if the littlest kidiot sprouts a tooth and fever and fucking fit, for which the ever-so-helpful Madeline in the Middle decides to punch him head for. What kind of mom am I then? What about when someone is miraculously napping and no one wants to respect the sleeping environment and start screaming at the top of their little lungs. How do I “calm-mom” my way out of that situation. I don’t. What if someone broke the Kindle charger and now they think they’re capable of sharing. (They’re not). What about when the baby is drooling a lot and crying into my pantleg while I’m trying go to the bathroom?
Its not so easy to keep your calm when, from the silence that falsely gave me hope for an uneventful trip to the restroom springs a deafening squeal and a raucous that is likely a wrestling match. Why the hell can’t they do a Pinterest craft in an Insta-worthy setting like normal fucking kids? Why doesn’t the little one have a tooth yet – it’s been a fucking hour already – I’m dying. What kind of mom am I with no patience? Normal. I’m fucking normal, and I’m n mostly making this post to reassure myself of that after a consistent block of bad-fucking-days.
It’s hard to remind myself that being half-assed perfect is good-enough when the shit hitting the fan is literal and you have a headache.
Things will get better. Thank you, Advil for all the times you’ve been there for me.
Seriously, parents – buy in bulk.
Advil Pain Reliever/Fever Reducer, 200mg Ibuprofen (300-Count Coated Tablets )
So as a sign off, it’s okay to even be badly half-assing things. I’m outnumbered and that’s ok.