A Perfect Mom

I am constantly reminded of not being a perfect mom, and trying to remember that "perfection" is unattainable and in some ways a matter of opinion. 

I was reminded of this...again when we were at HEB today. It had been a great trip (haha no, nothing about it was great) the boys were screaming, we saw a couple of people we knew (never a plus), and Zach lost the list (it's been three weeks and I still haven't purchased salt), by the time we got to the checkout I was well done. And then the bashing the cart into the checkout occurred, along with Zach screaming "BOOTY BUTT!" at the top of his lungs over and over, and Michael slapping him, and then them slapping each other. At that point I pulled Michael's arm and said "Just Listen!" The cashier looked at me like I was the worst mother on the planet. I mean in that moment it did sorta agree with her, but my main object was just to leave the store before someone got hurt.
There are a lot of incidents like this... you know pretty much anytime we go out in public. But at the end of most days I think to myself, wow I should have played with the boys more, worried about them making messes less, and just generally enjoyed them more. I am trying to stop and remember that. But at the end of the day I think they are probably ok. I was reminded of this last night during bedtime. They hadn't listened all day (but they're 2 and 4 so let's be honest that's but at bedtime they were pretty sweet, we quietly read three books, read scriptures, sang a song and then I left. They didn't seem damaged by the minor yelling or not being played with 24 hours a day, they seemed just fine. I will probably hold on to the guilt of  making them play together for a good long while... something about I provided you a playmate that loves to play trains, star wars, etc so play with them instead of me... terrible I know. But I'm trying to remember that most imperfect mothers raise awesome well adjusted kids.

There's something funny about having your own kids, all of sudden your own parents look like geniuses. I remember getting really angry with my parents, especially with my mom, but as soon as my kids could... well do anything she became much much smarter (like overnight). Her mistakes seemed well less like mistakes and more logical (why serve the same five meals each week? because you have to feed everyone every day! Why is that a thing that happens three times a day... ) So here's to hoping we having screwed up the boys too much (so far) and that someday they will have compassion for our imperfections and think- "Hey they did a fairly good job we all survived to adulthood, no one has been to prison,let's forgive them for the yelling, not letting us watch as much TV as we would have liked, and just generally being human"

Someone posted this and I thought it was great, much more eloquent than my ramblings
https://sixwilliams.wordpress.com/2016/04/13/a-perfect-mom-is-the-worst/

I loved this section:
I find that women are hardest on themselves. So let’s forget about you for a moment and think about your children. And the example we set for them.
When your daughter has kids of her own…
She’s been up all night with a teething baby, and it’s her turn to bring snacks to her toddler’s preschool…would you tell her to buy a box of Goldfish and call it a day? Or would you insist she brings whale shaped sandwiches with vegetables made into silly faces?
You’d tell her to bring the damn Goldfish. (You can cuss; she’s an adult now.)

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