Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Not-So-Super Mom

Today I realized I'd thrown out my youngest child's important school paper, complained about having to attend my middle child's track meet and turned my grumpy teenager into angry teenager by not agreeing right away to his request.

Sigh...Maybe I wasn't meant to have children.

We all have those days where nothing seems to go right.  The oven breaks before a big dinner party, you stain your favorite shirt before an important meeting, the dog needs to go to the a vet when the check book is empty.  When you're a parent, however, particularly a mother, it always seems to be your fault.  No more juice in the fridge? Mom... Can't find your favorite shirt?  Mom!  Late getting up for school?  MOMMM!!!  (I've often threatened to change my name to something they can't drag out in that whiny tone.  Maybe Bob.)

I realize some of this is my own fault by doing too much for them.  If I never washed their clothes, they couldn't blame me when they were out of clean socks.  If I never made dinner, they wouldn't notice it was late.  If I didn't love them unconditionally, their complaints wouldn't even bother me.

Ah, there lies the rub. 

Who doesn't want to be Super Mom?  Faster than a puking baby, more powerful than a two-year-old's will, able to leap a pile of laundry in a single bound.    But I am normal, everyday mom who wants what's best for my kids, but some days I'm just too human to pull it off.  Or too tired, or "Do you really need sequin shoes to go with your Dorothy costume?"

So I spent a half hour digging through the recycling bin and located the important school paper.  It may be a little wrinkled and slightly damp (and it just may smell like beer), but it'll be signed and turned in tomorrow.  Middle Child agreed that track meets aren't all that fun, even though she likes the practices.  We decided that maybe next year I could just come watch one of her events and then go home to make dinner.  Grumpy Teenager is still grumpy that the decision he thought was a simple yes or no question needs to weighed in by his dad.  This one, at least, will be blamed partially on my husband (and, no that doesn't make it any easier, but it gives me something to hold onto as I face the wrath of our son).

It's a bird, it's a plane...Oh never mind, it's just my mom.

Today's motherly misdeeds were brought to you by Not Enough Sleep, Too Many Details in One Middle Aged Brain and ARGH, You Need What When?!