Confessions of a Bad Mother

Single parent.  A phrase that defines or redefines parenthood in monumental ways. It takes more work, more strength, more conviction in all that you do, more of you. There is no automatic backup. No tag-teaming.  No bench strength.  I am the spokesperson for my family unit.  There is no checking with anyone or worrying if a decision will be questioned or disapproved of.  It’s just me. And everything the little devils throw my way.  Did I say devils?  Of course not.  My children are perfect.  Just like everyone else’s.  I’m the imperfect one.  Here’s the proof:

-Sometimes I let my kids go to bed without brushing their teeth. (They are just going to fall out anyway, right?)

-Sometimes I let them stay in their pajamas all day.

-Once I let my children have frozen yogurt for dinner. Or maybe twice.

-I sometimes tell them that Disney Jr. is broken.  And Netflix.  And Youtube.  And my iPhone.  Then I marvel at the things they know.

-I have convinced them that “Naptime” is an awesome game.  That’s where I lay on the couch and “pretend” to sleep while they cover me with blankets and stuffed animals.

-When they whine for something in a store I tell them “Maybe for your birthday!” even if their birthday is 9 months away.  And even if they are asking for gum.

-I make them pay for snacks with hugs and kisses.  But everyone wins in that one.

-I am in no rush to teach them how to tell time.

-My two year old says damn it. So does my four year old. That’s all on me.

-I have told them that no one will ever love them as much as their mom.  Good luck to their future spouses.

 

Happy Mother’s Day!