Sometimes I whip up organic fruit smoothies for my little one, lovingly blended to perfection; other times, he munches on Honey Nut Cheerios that have become permanent fixtures on my unkempt floor.
Some days, I rise before the sun, shower, and adorn myself in something other than sweats, ready to venture out into the world. Other times, I opt for my trusty elastic-waist pants, skip the shower, slather on some deodorant, and cancel any plans that might require me to step outside.
Sometimes I find myself on the floor, building block towers, reading stories, and singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” Yet, there are moments when I’m simply too exhausted to entertain a baby for hours on end.
On certain days, as soon as I hear my son stirring from his nap, I dash upstairs to scoop him up from his crib. Other times, I crave just a few more minutes of tranquility and let him wait a little longer while I sit at the kitchen table doing nothing.
When my partner returns home from work, there are evenings when the dishes are clean, the floor is vacuumed, and dinner is simmering on the stove. Yet, there are also nights when the sink and dishwasher overflow like a Leaning Tower of dishes, the floor is a minefield of crushed Goldfish crackers, and I find myself begging him to order takeout, even if it means straining our budget, just to avoid cooking another meal this week.
There are occasions when I put my phone aside and devote my full attention to my son. However, there are also times when I get lost in reading tips about being the perfect mom while my child plays alone.
Sometimes I manage to put my son down for a nap and become surprisingly productive—writing blog posts, washing dishes, and folding laundry. Other times, I bring him into bed with me, and we indulge in a blissfully unproductive two-hour nap, waking up to a mountain of tasks left undone.
At times, I feel completely secure in my own approach to motherhood, unapologetically confident. Yet, I can’t help but compare myself to the seemingly perfect mom in the grocery store line or feel a twinge of envy over another mom’s luxurious family vacation to Jamaica that I can only dream of.
Sometimes, I feel incredibly fortunate to stay home with my son every day; other times, I wish someone needed me for anything beyond cutting food into tiny pieces or digging out a block that’s wedged under the coffee table.
I am a mother of contradictions, constantly shifting between different versions of myself. I am flawed and inconsistent, capable yet inept, a vibrant mix of colors on the same canvas. But even in those moments of laziness, ineptitude, or just plain not getting it right, I know I am always a good mother. And you are, too. Even on the days when your child consumes red dye #40, when a Facebook thread about Ryan Gosling seems more fascinating than your baby, or when you lose your cool because someone barged in on you in the bathroom for the umpteenth time. It’s okay; you’re still a good mom—just not a perfect one.
After all, who gets it perfectly right all the time? Sometimes.