“Do NOT jump off that couch Kaiden, you will hurt yourself.” I said to my growing dare devil 2, almost 3 year old son. I looked away for a split second to grab my laptop off the coffee table and I hear a heavy 30lb thump hitting the floor and landing on his arm. The tears start (his and mine), and this cry sounded different. This cry doesn’t sound like a “I hurt myself a little” cry, this cry sounds like an excruciating, I broke something cry. We scoop him up as fast as we could, rush out the door; he has no shoes on, no shorts and we are off to the ER. The nurses know us here. Kaiden, are you back, AGAIN?!?!? They doctor gives me a look, as if to say, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON AT HOME? Am I really a “Bad Mom?”
Growing up, I hung around my aunt that had my niece and my cousins to take care of. Though I always helped her with them, I never had that real nurturing, gentle touch. I was a bit rough with handling them and lets just say 15 years later, not much has changed. I am more the free ranged mom, free spirited; you know the kind that will allow you to jump, slide, bungee off anything as long as you didn’t break anything… guess that’s not the best method huh? As we sat in the hospital, I couldn’t help but to beat myself up and have mommy guilt about not being this cookie cutter, “perfect” mom. Yes, I feed my kid nuggets and pizza if need be if he refused to eat anything else. Yes, I watch movies or listen to music at times with curse words in them and cringe because I want to watch but I know its bad for him. Hell, I let him stay up until he’s ready to fall asleep and we have no set bedtime. Don’t tell the other moms, but I even let him eat snacks and drink juice before dinner and bedtime.
This weekend the movie, “Bad Moms” came out in theatres and as Mila Kunis struggles to be this “good” mom that does everything “right”…. I’m like SHIT, that is me. I breastfed, but no I didn’t feed him everything organic, I watch him and monitor his every move the best I can, but here he goes with a broken arm at 2 years old, and I try to listen to appropriate music, but he turns up to trap music every chance he gets. What kind of mother am I? As Mila Kunis, Kathryn Hahn, and Kristen Bell tackle the joys and nightmares of motherhood, you have the “perfect” moms, Christina Applegate, Annie Mumolo and Jada Picket Smith who act as if they “have it all together”. GIRL PLEASE! I come over to some friends houses and I wonder, HOW SWAY? HOW? How do you not have dishes in your sink? How do you not have candy and juice stains smeared across your coffee table? How do you not have red juice stains on your white plush carpet? I have a friend and she thinks she is soooooooo “perfect” at this mommy thing and I am sure her reaction to my questions would be, I train my child to act accordingly. BOOM. Is that the answer? Am I raising a wild child so this is the results? I swear I try; I try my best daily. I try to find balance, I try to do yoga. I pray to God, Allah and Buddah and I ask for guidance on balancing my days… but my success rate of keeping everything in tact and keeping on schedule, goes out the window every single morning.
My goal is to keep my sanity. If I have dishes in the sink, fuck it, they’ll get washed when I can. Maybe I can only read him a bedtime story every other night, oppose to nightly. Maybe I can get him to sit and eat with me at the table every other day, instead of forcing and fighting with him daily. I know they need guidance and structure, shit I need guidance and structure at 32 and I am fighting for it, but I need to accept that I am being the best Mom I can be. I am trying my best to get my life in order before he goes off to school. I wouldn’t want him to be the kid that is always late, that is sleeping in class because he stayed up too late, or the one that left his homework at home because his mom forgot to put it in his bag. Is there a learning curve to this thing? Can we just call this my learning, test phase? As Kaiden explained to the doctor he didn’t listen to mommy and he jumped off the couch and that’s how he broke his arm, the doctor looked at me as he sensed the concern in my eyes and he said, “Mom, your son is very articulate and smart. You are doing a great job and raising a smart boy.” In that instance, I went from beating myself up as a “bad mom” to being the best mom ever for this little guy.