OK with Imperfection

We moms put an unbelievable amount of pressure on ourselves. I am by no means a perfect mom. I can't even use my crock-pot, never mind a Betty Crocker cookbook. And my version of a good day means I have more laundry in the drawers than on the floors. It means I made it home from work with enough time and sanity left to give some quality time to my children. I define doing the dishes as: as long as they are not in the sink, and at least piled in to the dishwasher, they are done.

I think I am a supermom if I remember to have my kids brush their teeth twice a day and give a bath at night. I think I am an alien mom if I have more than one meal planned and meet all the required vegetables a day.

If I manage to get a workout in, I think I am robomom. If I can shower in the morning, apply make-up and have a wrinkle-free outfit, I am fashionable mom.

I find glimpses of the perfection I seek in moments of my mom life. The trick now is to be satisfied with those mere glimpses and hope that my children see them as more than moments but as their ordinary.

And even though my children think the microwave is where I cook most, I hope they appreciate that the less time I spend on the preparation of a meal, the more time I will spend sharing one with them. And although they may not have the word iron in their vocabulary, I hope that they enjoy it when we turn the laundry baskets into spaceships. And while I might have to shower the night before, I hope they remember we play with bubbles and focus on clearing the tub of toys for a 'swim' instead of a scrub.

I can only try and be their 'OK' mom. Their 'I am good today' mom. The 'I am not stressed right now' mom, and the 'I am sorry for snapping at you' mom. I hope that they are OK with the mom that I am. It is hard not being perfect, but impossible to be so. So instead of being perfect, I hope they are OK with me.