Are you a good parent? Am I?

Today as I was walking through the store with my family. A woman, who was an employee approached me.

She had witnessed me, point blank , tell my son after a quick tantrum; ” You will not raise your voice to me, I am your mother.” This was all that I said and my son responded with an apology.

The female employee said with a smile;

” I was just telling another girl what a good mother you are. So many mother’s let their children run wild without respect for other people.”

This, to me, is completely foreign. I have never once thought I was a good mother. I stress over details, discipline, encouragement and as most parents do; when do I get myself back? My child is a constant struggle. A very dear friend told me as of late “The nut cracker works fine, you just have a hard nut to crack”.

This woman in the store admired my approach to child rearing, if you can still call it that. I felt very good, for once about motherhood. Everyone about seems to think I am a good mother, I however disagree. I could be faster, better, smarter, stronger.

Inside of my heart I love my boy, who questions me and tells me I am wrong. He challenges me constantly and while it drives me to madness it also blooms proud in my spirit. I am rasing him as I promised I would.

My rules:

1) I will accept my child no matter what or whom he has decided to become.

2) I will love him completely regardless of any circumstance.

3) I will discipline him for any disrespect of another being, be it animal or human.

4) I will always hold him to his word.

5) I will never tell him a lie.

These are the rules I wrote in my diary long before he was born. I have kept them all. I do not think I am a good mother. He is only four and there is much more to come for him. How he sees me now as an “authority”  that will some day change into an “understanding”. I only want to ask of him what I ask of myself. I seem like a harsh mother, but perhaps the woman at the store has given me a new understanding. I was a black sheep child… who struggled against all that was handed to me. Maybe my real purpose in life is to raise this “unexpected” child. To make him my better? Maybe this is what all of us parents are meant to do?

To love and live for, even if we are judged harshly, our children.

The hardest nut of all.

My son’s naked butt

The morning is always a unclear time, before the coffee kicks in and the brain starts to function I am always confused. What will the day bring, what will we do, how often will I call my husband at work? I wake and am greeted by three black cats, one whom presently has his paw in my mouth, a moaning, drooling husband and a child who has shed his diaper and is going commando around the house. Did I really think it was going to be like Doris Day? I think I did. Where are the singing birds? Why isn’t my hair and make-up perfectly done? Plastic scrambled eggs and a house that shows no evidence of a family ever having been there. No, not for me. Runny scrambled eggs, burnt toast, hungry cats, confused husband and my son’s naked butt.

The Passing of Mothers’ Day

Another Mothers Day come and gone; it makes me think about this flower giving, obligating and false promise making “holiday”. I have been a mother for three years and every time mother’s day comes around I feel bad that I might not have been the “best” mother all year and results in me cleaning the house from top to bottom, agonizing over my mother’s gift for the occasion and fighting with my husband about the day itself. After sweating all day doing dishes, putting on make up for my hubby and telling my son I love him every six seconds I ask myself; what really is this day of mother worshiping?

I think about my mother.

This day is a false and ignorant means to get money and inspire people to spend it.

But I think of my mother anyway; hence have I “sold out” to the masses of holiday frenzy?

I have. I bought her roses.

But I thought about her, wondering what gift could I give this woman? Well knowing my mom, only my happiness in life would do to please her. That I am still having trouble with so what to I get this woman? A promise? A thought? Roses that will die?

My mother will never know how much I love her and the moments I remember about our interactions that I hold precious to my heart. She may never know that I still have bad dreams and wake up wanting a hug. There is so much my mother will never know about my complete and utter love and respect for her.

My mother may never know how much I love her so I sent her beautiful yellow, peach and orange colored roses in a lovely square vase with a balloon from her grandchild stating; I Love You Grandma and a silly card. I had to choose the roses. I over thought a holiday that can never say how much I love her.

I guess that this is what mother’s day is about.

I simply could not get my mom off of my mind.