I am writing in the fog and haze of having just survived a sleepover birthday party. Ten little girls...ten tiaras....ten sashes....ten egos....ten cans of soda....three arguments.....one birthday girl. Oh, and one rat that broke free from his cage, I watched him scurry out into the dark and all I could think is, "TAKE ME WITH YOU!!!!" I felt bad for wanting to escape the party that I planned and executed. Bad Mommy.
I wonder what makes a "good mom". I hear this every so often, "You are a good mom." Am I? Whenever I do get this odd compliment I always respond with, "Tell that to my kids." Mostly I feel like I get blamed for everything, from their failing grades to their bad moods. I think they would tell you that I am single handedly responsible for more damage than global warming.
Then the moment comes where we are all together and someone says or does something and we all burst out laughing. In those moments I can breathe, we are all happy together. For a moment. And I think, maybe I am a good mom.
