I've realized that I'll never be mama of the year. Gone are my pre-motherhood self-expectations and suppositions.
While it's never kept me up at night, I may or may not have wept a copious amount of tears over it.
Alright, maybe not even that much, but there are days when I sure feel like I deserve that distinction.
However, when I look at myself and my sometimes behaving kids, I realize...
It's just not going to happen.
Really, it's not.
And here are just some of the reasons why I'll never be mama of the year:
~Sometimes, I don't want to share my bowl of ice cream. (Please read between the lines.
I never want to share my ice cream.)
~Sometimes, my kids' clothes don't match. I used to think that was a sign
of bad mothering. Now I realize that
a) sometimes daddiesget kids dressed
b) sometimes kids get themselves dressed and
c) I'm too tired to care who got them dressed as long as they're covered.
~Sometimes, I hear blah, blah, blah, blah, blah when my kids are
speaking to me. Especially when I'm blogging.
~Sometimes, I count Gracie (one of our doggies) licking Jack as a bath.
~Sometimes (oh, alright. Today...) I get frustrated when I open one of my daughter's dresser
drawers and find that she should be on TLC's Hoarding: Buried Alive.
In my frustration, I dump the said drawer's items on the floor.
One of the items landed on the top of my foot. I am now limping in horrible pain,
which will just be beautiful in my lovely Easter shoes tomorrow.
I didn't see what it was that land on my foot,
but I am wondering how my daughter got an anvil in her drawer.
All of these reasons are why I'll never be mother of the year. That and my gimpy foot.
Mother's of the year never have gimpy feet. Or gimpy anything for that matter.