Confessions of a Mom, published in May/June 2006 az3sixty magazine

I admit it. I’m a mom who doesn’t love Mother’s Day.

Mother’s Day is for the June Cleaver moms, wearing high heels and a pearl necklace to vacuum. Or Carol Brady moms, perkily dispensing wisdom from an orange vinyl kitchenette set. It’s fancy corsages and gourmet brunches for elegant, soft spoken mothers. It is a day to put these homemade -pie baking women on a pedestal and worship them.

Except I’m not one of them. I’m the mom who has been known to let my kids eat ice cream for breakfast. I’m the one driving them to school in my pajamas with bedhead hair blocking the rear view mirror. I’m the mom who forgot about the tooth fairy and had to make up a big story about her having every other Tuesday off. I’ve had PMS-triggered meltdowns over dried Fruity Pebbles adhered to the sink. I’m the one who had to write a note to the teacher explaining ketchup stains on homework. I’m not sure I’m the kind of mom who deserves to be on a pedestal.

I wanted to be. Originally. Way back when this whole thing started. I love babies. One of the great things about babies, besides being soft and cuddly and all that, is that they represent a new beginning, a clean slate, an idealistic start to unlimited possibilities. How many of us dreamed of the wonderful standards we would set when we had one of those darling little bundles of our own? We knew a French fry or a hot dog would never enter their pure little stomachs. We vowed to speak 2 languages consistently to our offspring so she would be fluently bilingual by age 5. And we swore we would never ever ever in a million years be like that frazzled mom in the check out line, giving in and buying candy for her screeching toddler.

Fast forward five years to that same check out line. A childless couple behind you in line is staring at you in horror and disgust. You suddenly and shamefully realize you have become “frazzled mom“. Your cart is littered with icee cups, your son’s face is coated with cotton candy and unwiped nose drippings, and you have just shoved a bag of gummy bears in his hand to keep him quiet. What has happened to you? Idealistic parenting, meet the real world.

Then comes the big day when we celebrate parenthood. Mothers day and Fathers day can be guilty reminders of our own shortcomings …. our past vision of perfection has morphed into our current parental expectations of “Today I hope to make it to lunchtime without losing it.”

It does not mean we are failures as parents if our children know the pizza delivery guy by his first name. We would like to have kept a clean child rearing record from day one, but the truth is, all parents make mistakes. I know of no parent who hasn’t made a threat they had no intention of carrying out, who hasn’t spoken to their precious child in a tone of exasperation, and who has consistently made all the right choices every day.

Our parents made mistakes too, and we turned out all right, didn’t we? (Well, most of us anyway) We’re all still learning and growing., and certainly other imperfect parents have had children who turned out to be decent productive citizens.

Although we hate to tarnish the image our children have of us as all knowing and powerful, they can even learn a lot from our mistakes. This Mother’s day and Father’s day, let’s try to remember 3 ways parenting flaws can be good:

1. If we make mistakes and our children see us own up to the error of our ways, they will learn that it’s OK to admit when you are wrong. That’s a big skill for getting along in the grown up world.

2.Our parenting frustrations give us lots of opportunities to teach our children the value of plugging away at our problems. Our children will see us exercise perseverance, and they will learn from our example not give up or get discouraged--even when we vow, once again, that we are NOT bringing any food or drink in the new car. Does “Yes, I know I said that last month too but this time I really mean it“. sound familiar? We just keep trying.

3. Even witnessing the occasional disagreement can be helpful for our children, if they see two people who respect each other and their opinions. They can see how to discuss differing points of view and arrive at a compromise. We can all probably name names of some one in our grown up world who could still stand to learn those skills!

As imperfect parents, we are modeling how to live in an imperfect world for our children.

All right, so I’m not a Norman Rockwell mom. Please score me on effort, not achievement . I’m just trying to do my job, however inadequate I may be. And even though I hope I’m appreciated 365 days a year, I’ll try not to feel too guilty on the one day they set aside for me. Because of me, my kids will be well versed in dealing with life 101. But this Mother’s Day, I’ll gracefully accept my breakfast in bed (and the accompanying mess in the kitchen) and the endearing home made cards and gifts. I can be an unsung hero.

After all, I am the one who scrubs the toilets.



Dedicated to my mom and dad, who have been ideal parents from day one.