May 19, 2011

Confessions of an Imperfect Mom

I read the most refreshing post today on Topaz Mommy's blog. It was entitled I'm okay with not being a perfect mommy (and I'm sure my kid is, too!).

From just the title, you could tell it was a confession post. And I loved it so much, I hope she will forgive me for writing a post so similar to it.

Hi. My name is Blessie. I am a work-at-home, homeschooling, breastfeeding, co-sleeping, natural family planning, and babywearing advocate.

But more than all of these, I am an imperfect mom:

  • I rely on a yaya six days a week so I could do my work.
     
  • On Sundays, when the yaya is away, the 2-year-old spends most of the day wandering in the garden naked and barefoot. I've caught him pooping there, too.
     
  • I forget to give the kids their vitamins. And we didn't have vitamins in the house until a few months ago. That bottle is still half full.
     
  • I don't sterilize baby bottles. If they can survive chewing on the slippers, they can survive unsterilized bottles, I reason.
     
  • On days that I have deadlines (about 5 out of 7 days in a week), I don't get to read the children a story. I let them watch TV and play computer games instead.
     
  • I get angry and impatient. I have been known to shout at my children and my husband. Especially my husband.
     
  • If the kids don't eat crumbly crackers in the house, I would forgo sweeping for the day. And that is why crumbly crackers are banned in the house. But since I'm at the computer most of the time, they are able to bring the d*mned things in anyway.
     
  • I never fold blankets. I stuff them under the pillows instead. I never iron clothes either. Once they've been worn two hours, you won't be able to tell the difference anyway. (At least, that's what I tell myself.)
     
  • I am a terrible party planner. Our children's parties are 1-hour affairs with four things on the menu, two of them sweet. Our guest is the cousin next door and Lola Ermie, without whom, there wouldn't be balloons.
     
  • I misplace stuff a lot. I had lost my eldest kid at the supermarket. I had lost my second kid at a family reunion. I had lost my two-year-old at the airport.
     
  • Sometimes, I get so exhausted, I fall asleep without brushing my teeth or taking a bath. Heaven only knows why my husband still wants to sleep with me. I would call it "natural family planning," except it fails to keep him away.
     
A friend of mine likes to call me a super mom. In the interest of honesty, I have to disagree. I am not a super mom. I try my best to be one, but—to put it quite simply—I fail.

Through it all, though, I am happy to report that, by God's ability to fill in our imperfections, my children still love me and they obey me, and (of this I am sure) they know that I love them. For me, this is what counts the most.

As for my husband, I hope he knows, too, that I love him, even though I'm not like those sweet wives you see in coffee creamer commercials. Anyway, since he's reading over my shoulder as I write this (asking, "Why aren't you working?"), I guess he knows it by now.

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