1 Mother 2 Another

Every year, I rant and rave about all the
noble new year’s resolutions we see flying – exercise
more; eat less; save more; spend less; save the dolphins and end
world hunger. We’re always doomed before we start, so I
always make a list I can REALLY stick to.


Here’s this year’s version – taking a stand for
mediocrity and tired parents everywhere.

1. I will not be embarrassed when I
endorse a paycheck for deposit with a purple crayon because
it’s the only thing I’ve got in my purse. Those bank
people should be grateful I’m giving them my money at all.


2. I vow that at least once this year, I will go on a diet, see a
dessert I couldn’t refuse, blow my diet, be overcome with
remorse and guilt, and hate myself for about twenty minutes until
Cora demands my attention by standing on top of the coffee table
naked except for a butterfly net over her head.


Hey, look, I can cross one accomplishment off my list already!


3. I resolve to stop eating the trident gum I find smushed and
covered in lint at the bottom of my purse. Except that the only
time I eat it is when I’m desperate for a breath mint and
can’t find one and my breath really reeks, so never mind.


4. I swear that, when I am STILL getting up with Cora once or twice
a night a year from now and she’s THREE AND A HALF, I will
only curse her under my breath. And I’ll try to cut back on
the number of times I “accidentally” kick Brian as I
get out of bed so he has to wake up every time I wake up.


5. I promise to stop giving up chocolate. Cocoa, you had me at
hello.


6. Periodically this year, I swear I will get wound tighter than a
cat in a roomful of rocking chairs, simmer slowly about how much my
kids drive me crazy, then blow like a volcano right before Daddy
comes home and the end is in sight. Then he’ll walk in the
house and see two kids frozen in fear at their snack stools, ask me
what’s going on, and I’ll throw him that
“Don’t you DARE question me or my parenting!”
look before stalking off to hide in the bathroom and scrounge for
that emergency bar of chocolate I’ve got hidden under the
bed. Then I’ll sit on the toilet, remorseful, and tell myself
what a bad mommy I am. Then I’ll start thinking about what
good kids they basically are, fall in love with them all over, and
then vow to worship every step they take. At which point I’ll
go downstairs and declare that –


7. I resolve to be a better mom, and enjoy every moment I spend
with my girls.


Then I’ll ask Brian to watch the kids while I take a bubble
bath. The better mom thing will start the next day. Or the next.
Whatever.


Hey, I told you this was a reality list.