Updated: May 26, 2018
Originally Published: Oct. 30, 2014
On my most wonderful days, I creatively fend off imaginary Monsters. I can persuade my kids that we’ve got magical Monster-proof paint on our walls or that the Monster is just a tiny creature in a tutu, singing “Puff the Magic Dragon.”
But on the tough days, my patience wears thin, and I find myself shouting, “Just go to bed already!” as my little one bounds up the stairs for the umpteenth time, leaving them with that as their final thought before drifting off to sleep.
On the best days, everyone is presentable, including yours truly. The kids are clean and smell delightful. Their nails are trimmed, hair is styled, and their faces are free from food remnants or mysterious brown smudges.
On the worst days, they resemble little wild animals, and I often catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror while brushing my teeth at night. Let’s just say, it can be a bit alarming.
On my best days, I lock eyes with my kids when they speak. I put down my phone, get on their level, and try to etch their sweet voices saying, “Mama, look!” into my memory forever.
But on the most chaotic days, I find myself saying, “Oh my gosh, please stop singing that song before I jump out the window!”
On the good days, I can sit back and watch as my child attempts to put their beloved, stained t-shirt on the right way for the thirtieth time without stepping in to help. I commend myself for letting them figure it out.
On the worst days, I wrestle them into the clothes I want them to wear, and amid their tears, their blotchy faces clash with the perfectly coordinated outfits I envisioned.
On the best days, I am the historian of their childhoods, the one who will remind them that, at seven, they couldn’t sit still at the dinner table, or that, when they were two, their potty success was met with an enthusiastic “Holy Shit!”
On my worst days, I’m rushing around, impatiently urging them to “Hurry up!” while I focus on my never-ending to-do list. And in that whirlwind, I forget to savor the little things.
On the good days, I look past the chaos—the laundry, the dishes, the clutter—and suggest, “How about a walk outside?” Their excitement makes me regret not looking away from the mess more often.
On the challenging days, the stress of daily life overwhelms me. I tap into that scary mom voice I didn’t even know I had. Yep, it happens.
On the best days, when the tears over homework inevitably arise, I set the work aside and offer a comforting hug, reminding myself that it’s not always the priority.
But on those worst days, I find myself rambling on and on, losing track of my own thoughts, and realizing once again why homeschooling isn’t my forte.
On the best days, I take a hefty dose of “Chill the F*&$ Out.” I breathe, relax, and realize that life isn’t as grave as I often make it.
On the worst days, I try to control everything, only to fail and end up feeling frustrated. Why is it so hard sometimes?
On the good days, I sit and read to them, immersing ourselves in stories until they’re ready to stop. Books pile up around us, and they look at me with hopeful eyes, “Just one more?”
On the challenging days, I can’t find even a moment to share a story with them.
On the best days, I think, “Please remember this moment.”
And on the worst, I secretly wish they’d forget.
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Summary: Parenting is a rollercoaster ride filled with unforgettable moments, from the magical days where everything feels perfect to the chaotic days that test your patience. It’s essential to cherish the good times while navigating the challenges, reminding ourselves that both are part of this beautiful journey called motherhood.