I recently finished reading "House Rules" by Jodi Picoult (one of my favorite authors . . . she often tackles difficult topics and sometimes her books are a bit scary or a bit sad but she has a way of writing that makes it hard to put the book down). The mom character in the book is a newspaper writer and one of her articles made me laugh out loud as well as agree 100% . . . give yourself a break as a mom . . . and enjoy the quote.
pg 156 - "When did they stop putting toys in cereal boxes? When I was little I remember wandering the cereal aisle (which is surely as American a phenomenon as fireworks on the fourth of July) and picking my breakfast food based on what the reward was: a Frisbee with the Trix rabbit's face emblazoned on the front. Holographic stickers with the Lucky Charms leprechaun. A mystery decoder wheel. I could suffer through raisin bran for a month if it meant I got a magic ring at the end. I cannot admit this out loud. In the first place, we are expected to be supermoms these days, instead of admitting that we have flaws. It is tempting to believe that all mothers wake up feeling fresh every morning, never raise their voices, ,only cook with organic food and are equally at ease with the CEO and the PTA. Here's a secret: those mothers don't exist. Most of us - even if we'd never confess - are suffering through the raisin bran in hopes of a glimpse of that magic ring. I look very good on paper. I have a family, and I write a newspaper column. In real life, I have to pick superglue out of the carpet, rarely remember to defrost for dinner, and plan to have BECAUSE I SAID SO engraved on my tombstone. Real mothers wonder why experts who write for Parents and Good Housekeeping seem to have their acts together all the time when they themselves can barely keep their heads above the stormy seas of parenthood. Real mothers don't just listen with humble embarrassment to the elderly lady who offers unsolicited advice in the checkout line when a child is throwing a tantrum. We take the child, dump him in the lady's cart and say, "great. Maybe you can do a better job." Real mothers know that its okay to eat cold pizza for breakfast. Real mothers admit it is easier to fail at his job than to succeed. If parenting is the box of raisin bran, then real mother know the ratio of flakes to fun is severely imbalanced. For every moment that your child confides in you or tells you he loves you, or does something unprompted to protect his brother that you happen to witness, there are many more moments of chaos, error, and self-doubt. Real mothers may not speak the heresy, but they sometimes secretly wish they'd chose something for breakfast other than this endless cereal. Real mothers worry that other mothers will find that magic ring, whereas they'll be looking and looking for ages. Rest easy, real mothers. The very fact that you worry about being a good mom means that you already are one."
From one real mom to another, have a great week.