The Worst Best Mom "is in love"

     'Each year I come to the boys' birthday party and see all of the children. And that's enough of a reminder for me for the year not to have kids.' (paraphrase) 

     Okay, so I overheard this conversation last year and watched without expression.  It took me awhile to process.  I knew it was not something meant to offend and actually I guess I wasn't really offended by this friend-without-children's comment.  Maybe seeing my kids in their celebratory mode with all of their friends running amock inside our small house was just too much.  Maybe the party would have been more enjoyable for her if there was a martini bar in the kitchen?

     Our birthday parties are really loud.  I haven't gone for too much fanfare in terms of renting special equipment or having the party at a special location- mostly because I'm really cheap and I know I can prepare bulk ziti or mac & cheese (or Little Ceaser's pizza).  So to be fair, there are a lot of kids running around in our not-so-big-house and their parents and several family members and some other friends as well.  So a birthday party at our house is pretty crazy and it doesn't help that it's all indoors based on the time of year.  And this particular year we had a superhero theme so running around with a cape on was allowed, so it was particularly chaotic.

     So is this really the best venue to judge whether or not it's a good idea to have children?  Not that I mind someone not having children. That's fine, of course. But should the choice really be based on a birthday party for a 1 year old and his 4 year old brother?  Why not judge when you visit a new mom in the hospital (try not to look at her exhausted eyes) and see her holding her baby.  Catch a mom when she receives her first unsolicited "I love you always" from her big boy.  Listen to a daddy telling a bedtime story through the baby monitor.  Those most intimate moments are the ones I would judge whether or not to have a baby on.  They are so hard to catch but they mean so much.
     I love to see my children happy but the crazed-glazed-over look at a birthday party is not the real type of happiness I'm seeking.  I loved the moment when I took them to an aquarium and a gigantic shark swams just 3 inches away and their eyes widen with amazement.  Or maybe better was the un-planned stop after the aqarium to the city's sprinkler park where they splashed and laughed and chased the water around the fountain.  I loved the moment when Joshua was first born and they handed him to me for the first time so I could nurse him- even before the APGAR's and the weighing and the washing.  I loved the moment when Liam (who is constantly on the go, looking for his next mountain/crib to climb, adventure/trouble to start) cuddled right up next to me and requested time for a "family sit".
      That's how you judge if it's time to have a baby.  All of those birthday parties and those temper tantrums and those embarrassing moments at the beach where your child pours muddy water on a friend's child.  All of those financial burdens and the lost sleep and the fact that you can't shower without someone opening up the curtain and asking you to help them find the remote control... All of those just slip away and you realize you would love nothing more than to give everything up just to experience such deep moments of intimacy and love and happiness and significance.  Having a baby teaches you to love so deeply- not just the baby but whoever else is in that baby's world.  You see your parents as grandparents loving that baby and you love them more.  You even see your in-laws loving that baby so much, and you love them more!  And when you see that baby's daddy holding the baby nose-to-nose and teaching him already to root for the Yankees, you can't help but love that man more too.

     I have a good friend who I don't get to speak to very often anymore... she summed this all up so well on her facebook status just days after her daughter was born.  Her status was simply: "... is in love."  That's what being a parent is all about, it's about falling in love.

Goldfish, Raisins, Crayons and Cups

     Yesterday on the way to the mall Liam and Joshua were sharing goldfish crackers.  Joshua was saying "Mmmm" which we decided meant "more" so (if you read the last post) we decided that was an acceptable use of communication.  At any rate, both kids were happy in the backseat with orange mouths.   Until Liam dropped the goldfish crackers.  Isn't that an ancient mantra, "If you give a child a bag of goldfish crackers, he will drop them and the bag will be open"?  So now my backseat was covered with goldfish crackers. Actually, the backseat was covered in toys, sippy cups, bowls, crayons and then on top of that was the goldfish crackers.  You can tell I'm now a veteran mom (no longer a new mommy) because this didn't even faze me.  It didn't even bother me too much when Liam said, "I don't need to pick them up because it's already messy back here!"
     "We'll just throw them out to the birds!"  I said to Liam and that was that.  Snack time was over anyway.  So when we got home, Liam tossed the goldfish crackers out of the door.  Unfortunately, he tossed them onto the driveway instead of onto the grass but again, eh whatever. 
     I'm really not a germ-a-phobe. I pretty much feel that children are likely to get dirty hands and that's okay.  They may even eat with dirty hands.  I do think that washing hands is very important particularly after using the restroom or touching meat or cookie dough, etc...  So I have reasonable standards and in return I have pretty healthy kids who rarely get sick but occasionally have been known to eat sand or lick seashells.  Just occasionally though.
     I was a bit startled, however, when I spotted Joshua eating the goldfish off of the driveway. I didn't really have time to ponder whether it was more icky because they had been on the driveway or because they had been on the floor mat of my car. Either way, I scooped him up and then taught him a really fun game of stepping on the goldfish.  Crumb piles of goldfish are a lot less tempting to eat than actual goldfish swimming on the driveway.  And as I picked up the remaining crumbs left in the car, I decided it really was time to clean my car.
     Am I the only one who closes her eyes when she puts her children into the backseat?  It's gotten really bad.  I remember a time when I used to only have to vacuum my car once a year and now I have to do it twice a year!  And it really was time to clean the car.  I found remnants of yesterday's chocolate donut snack on Liam's armrest (advice to new moms, only give your kid a chocolate donut on the day that you plan to clean your car) and in Joshua's seat I had to use a pen to get raisins out of all of the little cracks & crevices.  I could not miss the irony of the colored streaks all over the upholstery either. Did you know that washable crayons are not really washable when melted onto car upholstery?  What would be easier for me to do- use a carpet shampooer on my mats & backseat or buy new floor mats?  Hmmm...
     Also surprising was the amount of crumbs in the front seat. I really can't fault my kids for all of their crumbs if I have my own crummy issues up front, now can I?  Maybe it really was a bad idea to eat buttered Matzoh on the way to work the other day...

Baby Talk

     Recently our family has been grappling with the issue of how much one child should be tortured into talking. Joshua has about a 20-30 word vocabulary with about 1/3 of those words sounding like "Da" (dog, Dada, all done, duck, that, etc...), 1/3 sounding like "Ba" (ball, bye, book, ...) and the rest are an assortment of the rare "te-oo" (thank you), "mama" and "the-go" (there you go).  The words fly around fluently according to Joshua's whim and fancy.  He will say "Bye" for 10 minutes straight as I talk to his babysitter on the way out the door.  He will say "ba" as he collects book after book after book for you to read aloud to him (although often he just wants the same one read and reread).  But when he just isn't in the mood, all he will do is grunt, whine and point.  This is rather inconvenient.
     I remember going through the same thing with our first child but I just assumed that this was a different kid so it would be a different story. No such luck.  Joshua only speaks when he wants to speak.  It seems like his reluctance comes mostly when he's overly emotional. So if he really wants those goldfish crackers, that's the time to grunt and point but if he's just chilling in his diaper he will call out "da" as he dances around the living room.  Come to think of it, are we ever really cooperative when we're mad or sad? When Joshua wakes up perky, he happily will drop his binkies (he usually carries around 3 after naps) into the crib but when he wakes up cranky it's awfully hard to pry them from his small hands!
     Is this a natural human tendency?  For communication to simply break down when we get frustrated, hungry or sad?  Or is there an actual disconnect between language and emotions that clouds our ability to articulate what we really want?  Or maybe I'm just over-thinking it and torturing my child.  It's come to this.  Joshua wants more blueberries (shocker) and I say, "Say 'more' Joshua."  Pointing, grunting... "Do you want more?"  Pointing and grunting, whining,...  "Use your words..." Pointing, grunting, whining,... And after about 3 minutes, "Say 'more'.  Say 'yes'.  SAY ANYTHING!"  At this point, I happily accept any vocal sound other than whining, pointing, grunting.  Is it really working?  Probably not.  Probably I should just sit back and respond to any form of communication (well, maybe not the whining) and give my baby his blueberries or goldfish crackers.

The Toydirondacks

     I have decided that the cure for any child's obsession with Thomas the Train is buying that child... a train table. The cure for wanting a robot is... using piggy bank $ to buy that robot. The cure for a love of fire trucks very well might be... asking Santa for that very shiny, big firetruck with the extra long ladder!  Get the idea?  Seriously, I was confronted with my child's mountain of toys when just yesterday I heard a really loud clatter from the family room.
     It was Liam and he was buried by a mountain of toys.  "I was standing on the exercise ball and trying to reach my favorite game!" I heard Liam tell me from underneath a pile of blocks.  Before helping him I ran upstairs to get a camera (worst best mom ever, right?).  To be truthful, I think I asked him if he was okay and he did say he was (maybe).  Okay, so he really was fine.  The ball had possibly shot him backwards so he was not crushed by the actual shelving unit.  Or maybe he was saved from the shelving unit because part of it landed on top of the toy kitchen?  Whatever.  In this mountain of toys was the aforementioned pile of blocks and kitchen but also his "favorite game" (Ants in the Pants), puzzles, trains, an assortment of mismatched and out of proportioned plastic dinosaurs, musical instruments and much more!  I tried to rescue a basket of Potato Head accessories but they also slid into the mess making more trouble.  After cleaning everything up, we found our last misplaced toy- Harry Hungry Hippo in the "cars" basket.  What mess had we gotten ourselves into?  And I don't mean a literal mess.  I mean the mess of the fact that this mountain of toys only contained about 15% of the toys we own.  Maybe even less if you include outdoor toys!
     I swear I don't spoil Liam and Josh and neither does Bill. We don't buy our kids "souvenirs" or anything really.  I usually buy stuff for Christmas/Hanukkah (but I'm mindful of the fact that they both come so close together), birthdays and "garage sale season".  Liam will occasionally cash in his piggy bank $ for a toy too.  It's just that they accumulate, these toys. They seem so appealing and so necessary... and then they sit on a shelf ready to be knocked over.
     The other morning, Liam said to Bill and I, "Mommy, Daddy, do you know what an I-Pod is?  My friends have I-Pods."  Mind you, his neighborhood friends are 10 years old.  Mindfully, we asked Liam, "What is an I-Pod?"  He told us that an I-Pod is for playing games.  Does an I-Pod really have games on it?  I don't know but I'm pretty sure that's not the main purpose and if he doesn't know the main purpose, should I really try to go out and buy him this new gadget?  And Yikes!  Is this what's to come?  A graduation from this mountain of toys that each cost between 25 cents-$30 to the gadget gifts? 
     My conclusion is this.  I admit to seeking out special toys that I remember loving as a child.  My kid had to have a Sit-N-Spin, for example (I swear, that's the name of the toy) and also a Cozy Coupe car.  I admit to buying toys purely because I think it would just solve the boredom problem in our house- that Liam and/or Joshua would just spend all of their hours consumed by this magical toy (think: train sets, Chutes and Ladders, Leapster, etc...).  None of this has amounted to much more than a few minutes here and there of amusement or possibly learning.  Liam and Joshua were obsessed with this Color Roller push toy my mom brought over (too early for Christmas) for about a day and a half.  Now not so much (sorry Mom). 
     So what does all of this mean?  Toys don't bring children prolonged happiness. Toys don't teach kids. Toys don't prevent boredom or help you avoid TV watching.  Toys are just that, toys.  And regardless of how little you spoil your children, you will likely still end up with a mountain range of toys spread around your house and that nagging urge to go out and buy just one more toy that could solve your house's boredom crisis or add that hint of nostalgia for your own childhood.  Now where could I find a new or used Lite Bright?

Famous Yogurt

     Every single morning I am awoken by a naked Liam.  Never fail; regardless of our discussions about how he should put on underwear before coming upstairs.  We are awoken by a nude child announcing that it is "time to wake up".  On a Saturday morning (okay, and sometimes during the week too), it's our distinct pleasure to mumble "Go watch cartoons."  Of course, we hope that by the time he makes it to the couch, he's wearing underwear but sometimes you just can't be too picky.
     So with this mumbled permission, we are aware that we are opening ourselves up to the world that is Saturday morning cartoons. Ideally, Liam will end up on our local PBS station.  PBS has good cartoons (although some are admitedly quite stupid- see Super Readers "super story answers") but better yet, few commercials.  In fact, the commercials are so subtle that Liam doesn't even know what Chuckie Cheese or Rainforest Cafe are despite their sponsorships of several of his favorite shows.  However, on Saturday mornings Liam most often chooses Nickelodeon and Nickelodeon is run by a wise conglomerate of TV executives who are very aware that their audience consists of young children whose parents are still asleep and can therefore be brainwashed into submission.  They pitch this exact thing to their eager advertizers.  And I know this to be true because of a recent trip to our local warehouse/wholesalers.
     I am looking at yogurt because yogurt is a very easy, healthy snack for children.  After looking at the sugar content of several leading brands (mind you, I didn't even pick up the Trix for Kids Go-Gurts), I discovered that Yoplait had a similar sugar content to the Danimals Crush Cups.  I didn't have long to look at the Danimals Crush Cups though because as soon as I picked up the box, Liam started to shake (like he often does when he is excited) and said in his usual too-loud-for-indoors voice "Mommy, do you know what those are? Those are Danimals Crush Cups!"  Now how did he know this, I ask?  We've usually bought Organic Stoneyfield yogurt (which they didn't have any of on this particular day) and sometimes the larger store brand containers of French Vanilla yogurt.  So how did he know about Danimals Crush Cups?  And perhaps a better question for the rest of you is, "What is a Danimals Crush Cup"?
     Danimals Crush Cups come in four packs (although our wholesaler sells them in a large crate with 6 packs of four). The tops are plastic and can be broken apart from each pack of four.  The yogurt tastes like any other yogurt.  A little processed and not organic.  They're in small cups that have three accordian folds along the side.  Other than that, they're indistinct from other small yogurt containers that come in packs.  So to eat this very-special-yogurt, you have to squeeze the yogurt up from the bottom and you therefore do not need a spoon.  This is very misleading because out of the three children who I've seen eat the Danimals Crush Cup, all three of them have ended up with yogurt on their noses and one of them had yogurt on her forehead.  So the idea is that you can squish the yogurt out of the cup, into your mouth much like a toothpaste container.
     And how did Liam know about the Danimals Crush Cups?  Because of advertising, of course!  "Mommy, did you see the commercial for Danimals Crush Cups?  These are the Danimals Crush Cups!"  He was very animated and announcing this to me in all seriousness at a fevered pitch. "These are the Danimals Crush Cups they had in the commercial!"
     Just for the record, we do not have any Zhu Zhu Pets (although we have given to two kids' for their birthdays this summer).  We do not sing "I want to go to Friendly's" on the way to Friendly's.  We do not respond to advertising in a knee-jerk fashion.  Usually if we look at catalogs, we talk about all of the things we have that are similar or the same as the items in the catalog.  I do even try to avoid character logos on clothes (but it's really hard to resist trademark super hero underwear that says "I'VE GOT YOUR BACK"!  So I really had no intention of buying the Danimals Crush Cups in response to a commercial that aired when I was probably still asleep.  But, it was fairly cheap and, as I mentioned, the sugar content wasn't too high (pretty much the same as the adult Yoplait cups).  So I decided to buy the Danimals Crush Cups. And with this gesture, Liam was clearly beside himself with pleasure of actually owning these famous Danimals Crush Cups. 
     And you know, now that I think about it.  I think that was the appeal of the Danimals Crush Cups... their fame.  So the next day when Liam's best buddy came over to play and he saw those Danimals Crush Cups in our fridge and I saw him shake with excitement, it just didn't surprise me very much.  Because those were the Danimals Crush Cups from the commercial!  And I knew his parents just love to sleep in on Saturday mornings.

# of times I wrote "Danimals Crush Cups" in this post- including just now: 18
    

Dumbing Down Television... of all things

     Ideally my children would not watch television.  They would pick up a book to read or play with an empty paper towel roll or collect rocks from outside.  But several times a day, you can find my kids engrossed in television viewing.  Actually, this is not accurate.  Liam can be seen in front of the television while Joshua still just follows me around (no matter how hard I try, I can't get him to focus on the TV screen)... 
     At any rate, Liam has very high standards for his TV viewing.  It must be a cartoon.  Other than that, if it's a cartoon, he feels justified in viewing.  This has it's good points and bad points.  On a positive note, it means that he has little patience for Yo Gabba Gabba and much less for The Wiggles (thankfully, because I'm really not one of those moms who gets turned on by lanky men in long sleeve turtle necks and tight jeans).  On the negative side, some of these cartoons are obviously violent, which is not allowed. But more often than not, the cartoons are just plain stupid.  I mean, really stupid. 
     Take Special Agent Oso, for example. This is a formulaic cartoon centered around clearly the stupidest panda secret special agent EVER.  He's so stupid that his tasks involve simply helping young children (whose parents are always just a distant, kind, voice at the door stating time limits, "Honey, just 10 more minutes...").  For his help, he is usually awarded some type of a Digi-Medal and then is given some super crazy generous gift, like a cruise ship or helicopter. 
     On a show we watched recently, Special Agent Oso was tasked with helping a young child build a snowman.  There's a really annoying song that goes along with the show.  Simply put it sings (in the most annoying tune possible), "Three special steps, that's all you need.  Three special steps, that's all you need.  It's just three special steps!  Just three special steps!" (I am singing this in my head as I write).  Needless to say, there have been three special steps for building a snowman, 3 special steps for making a birthday hat, 3 special steps for ice skating, etc... And, of course, Special Agent Oso needs to be REMINDED of these three special steps.  Seriously, this panda is no James Bond.
     Usually we enjoy the shows on PBS.  In theory, I like the Super Readers but they have the same dumb problem.  Take this scenario. Princess Pea is at a carnival.  Like all adorable, spoiled princesses, she eats too many treats (cotton candy, a soft pretzel, etc...) and then wants MORE (some popcorn).  But she has a problem... her belly hurts.  Am I supposed to pity Princess Pea?  Really?  Does no one know the answer to her problem?  Where is King or Queen Pea?  At any rate, the Super Readers go on a reading adventure where, along the way, they earn Super Letters. The Super Letters provide the Super Story Answer which is... "STOP AND THINK".  Really?  Stop and think?  That's the answer to Princess Pea's problem?  How about "Stop pigging out and being a selfish spoiled princess?" I think that works too!

Introductions

     Friends and family who read this blog will obviously know their places in its stories.  I'd like to clearly state that I have a horrible short and long term memory.  Honestly, I don't remember if my memory has always been this bad.  But lately, it's been horrible.  I felt really bad for that guy on Oprah (James Frey) who admitted to making up some of his "memoir".  That being said, I'm also a really bad liar.  Let me clarify: I have a hard time lying.  My inner voice of consciousness is intolerant of lies. Therefore, if I tell something unlike reality... it's either because I was (a) too lazy to remember it correctly or (b) remember it wrong or (c) imagined a different scenario so often that it became ingrained.  If you know the correct version of the story, feel free to post a comment.  Truly, this would be best for all of us involved. 
     This being said, I thought some introductions would be in order.  My family lives in a sprawling suburb of a small city.  Both my husband and I commute to other sprawling suburbs close to this same small city.  Not quite what two small town high school sweethearts had envisioned but we love it just the same.  And to elaborate on that high school sweetheart note, my husband and I have been together for a whopping 16 years which means about half of our lifetimes.  We were "dating" (I use this term loosely to include sitting around watching movies, sharing one bagel at the local bagel shop, hanging out at our local Quick Mart -also a Taco Bell-, going to his fraternity parties and taking walks in our favorite parks) for about 7 1/2 years before we got married.  It kind of made the whole "How does it feel to be married?" question a little irrelevant (I specifically remember thinking that when asked the question for the first time at our wedding).  Bill and I were once referred to as "The wall that is Bill and Jessica" although now that I put that it into print, it doesn't sound right, was it supposed to be "rock"?  No bother, it meant we were a pretty strong force when paired together.  Or maybe it just was a recognition that we're both so damn stubborn... 
     And so we are settled into our approximately one acre of fenced in goodness, happy to simply have a small strip of "woods" in our backyard (but not happy with the skunks that come with living next to the woods).  We waited until we were married and had a house before we thought about having kids. This is highly responsible of us. But it means we never got to spend much time partying in all of our region's hip glory.  If you didn't already get the message, I'm a dork. So even if we had taken time out of our life-planning, we wouldn't have been cool enough to hang out with the hipsters (or at least I wouldn't be. Bill is pretty easy going and therefore could hang out with anyone from a bunch of paranoid alien hunters to a group of high anxiety bankers on a lunch break). 
     After all of that responsible waiting and far too little actual "saving", we had our first son, Liam.  Liam is now 4 1/2 years old.  Liam is wildly outgoing.  He talks constantly and when he can't think of anything else to say, he'll just ask "Why?" which often degenerates into something along the lines of "Why because?" or "Because why?"  Liam is a very intelligent, insightful child.  Just yesterday we talked about how a haunted house is imitating a cemetary, not the other way around.  And he actually got it!  He barely knows all of his alphabet letters but demonstrates more "literate behaviors" than many kids in grade school- or even high school- (asking questions, connecting to other books we've read or TV shows, etc...).  Liam loves to do science experiments. He can spend an hour wasting water from our spigot- splashing it everywhere, "cleaning", experiementing with the nozzle settings and then sweeping it all up with a broom.  He causes trouble quite frequently.  It was bad enough when we caught evidence that he had been standing on his dresser.  We soon found out he was sitting on top of his (unstable) bookshelf too.  A few days after that and after numerous rational discussions about the dangers of standing on furniture, he arrived upstairs (during prime naptime) wearing an airplane kite that had been hanging from his ceiling thus begging the questions (1) how did he get the airplane kite down from the ceiling and (2) if he was able to shimmy himself into the kite, why was it so hard to get him out of it?
     Our second son is about 1 1/2 years old.  His name is Joshua and he is adorable.  I didn't always think he would grow up to be so adorable.  He was born with one long tuft of hair at the top of his head and then the "monk hairdo" growing along the base of his head.  While Liam is clearly a string bean, Joshua was more of a tomato (but a plum tomato, not a beefsteak).  He's got a little bit more "squishy" to him but he's growing out of that.  Once Josh grew his straight, soft, light colored hair and began to smile we realize what a knock-out cutie he is.  He has enormous brown eyes with long lashes.  He often wakes up... happy.  This is a very strange concept to Bill & I who are veteran parents of a more "intense" child.  Our second one is mostly content, especially if being held.  My friends make fun of me when he throws a mini-tantrum and then gets over it when I give him a blueberry.  Maybe it's just my mommy-haze, but it seems to me that Joshua is just a popular, lovable kind of easy-going guy.  I love that he is still opinionated though.  He nags and whines just like other kids.  He wants to play with whatever Liam's got and he just won't be satisfied until someone reads him a book (over and over and over again). 
     So this is our family.  When we start craving another special someone, we plan on going to the local animal shelter and looking into a friendly pet. Because, quite frankly as a mother, wife and full-time work-a-holic teacher, things are pretty busy here and I may be losing my mind.

Worst Best Mom Ever

     Consider this Worst Best Mom scenario:  I'm at the pool for my son's swimming lessons.  As I push around the idyllic baby in my stroller waving as needed and smiling at my 3 year old child who seems to be playing every trick in the book to keep his head out of the water; I view a struggle between another mom and her 2 or 3 year old at the edge of the pool. This child is dodging attempts from instructors and his mother to simply get in the water.  He doesn't even want one toe in the water.  He's hiding behind his mother's skirt as the teenage instructors use every trick in their short books to coax him in. 
     "Tyler, stop being so annoying!" The mother says. 
     My immediate reaction to calling a child "annoying"? (1) I judge (of course). Who wouldn't?  I can't believe a self-respecting suburban mom would call her kid annoying... in public!  But then my thoughts progress... (2) I consider paying $68 for swimming lessons when the child won't even get in the water.  At least my son is IN the water, though admittedly not swimming. But gee, that would be annoying, wouldn't it?  Still... (3) I judge.  (4) But somewhere in my mind I file this away and (5) later in the week I call my 3 year old "annoying" (maybe it was for touching every single box of noodles in the grocery store or perhaps for sweeping up muddy water from the driveway onto the hood of my car- inconsequential). 
     So what does that make me?  A better parent in theory than in practice?  The Worst Mom Ever?  Certainly not the Best... 
     What does it mean to be the "Worst Best Mom Ever"?  Let's start with the "Best" part.  I would suppose that in this world, their are good moms and bad moms. There are moms that abuse, neglect, belittle, spoil, etc... and I venture to say that strive to do none of those things.  I love my kids, and tell them that often.  We read copious amounts of books (often the same ones over and over and over ...).  We travel on little trips that we can afford.  And I try to take advantage of every learning opportunity possible from watching spiders hatch out of eggs on our playground slide to attending our local yearly Butterfly Station.  My kids are exciting, engaged, have vivid imaginations, converse often with kids & adults, sparks of intelligence & personality, happy helpers, lovable cuddlers, etc...
     This being said, we all have our moments.  I recently went out to eat with both children (now age 4 and 1) to a Mexican restaurant with friends. This was an ideally conceived outing. It was my husband's birthday, we had heard good things about the restaurant. Mostly though, it was a poorly conceiving outing. The car ride took us about 1 hour, neither child napped and instead we were all squished in the backseat getting grumpy. I may have also had a hangover (my first since before my last pregnancy). We arrived late at approximately 1:30 (yes, prime nap time). Now there are two places where children do not usually fare well. Many children simply fall apart the second they walk into either an (a) grocery store or (b) restaurant. I mentioned the touching of every noodle box? Yes, well restaurants can be similarly disastrous. They require sitting and waiting and quiet chatting. Not great for my active, impatient and loud/talkative kids! And to top it off, this particular restaurant also had a grocery-store-ish problem: it had jars upon glass jars of salsa for sale. I took the children for a walk... we decided to look at the pictures on the salsa bottles. My 4 year old decided to shake every single one of them up. This while I was holding the 25 pound baby. Every time I took a bottle from him, he grabbed another one. This could be a potentially disastrous, spicy, expensive mess and by the time I grasped control of the situation , the look of exhaustion and appearance of defeat on my face was apparent. Now was this a reflection of feelings towards my children or was it a reflection towards the world and its expectations?  A series of bad decisions had lead me to this precarious situation and the depressing conclusion that next time I got the big idea to go to a nice Mexican restaurant, I should just stick to the chain that shouts "Welcome" every time you come in the door.  This being said, a few months back we did go to that chain and had to leave due to a "screaming" problem.
     So after much deliberation I have decided that for the love of my children but the lack of my patience, I will be the worst best mom ever.  For my tenacity in providing my kids with experiences of life but for my inability to cope with the results of no-napping-in-the-car, I will be the worst best mom ever.  For my eagerness to read with my children but my frustration when my preschooler can't get past F in the alphabet, I will be the worst best mom ever.  For my affection & love & doting that I do each and every day but my feelings of detachment as I close the door and shout "Take a nap!  Mommy needs a break!", I will be the worst best mom ever. And for my careful planning of a safe, loving, enriching environment but my laziness in following through (i.e. forgetting to make a vegetable with dinner), I will be the worst best mom ever. 
And so, aren't we all?  How many of us are there out there that love our kids (and tell them often), devote so much to our family's homes, maintain family values, etc... but that also exhibit impatience, frustration, detachment and laziness?  C'mon... admit it :)