Sometimes I whip up delightful organic fruit smoothies for my son, pouring my love into each blend; other times, he munches on Honey Nut Cheerios that somehow ended up on the floor… and have possibly been there for a while.
Sometimes, I rise before my son, shower, and slip into something that doesn’t feature an elastic waistband, looking relatively put together in case I venture outside; other times, I choose comfy pants, spray on some deodorant instead of actually showering, and cancel plans that would require me to even step close to the front porch.
Sometimes, I’m on the living room floor building block towers, reading stories, and joyfully singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider”; other times, I just can’t summon the energy to keep a baby entertained for ten hours straight.
Sometimes I dash upstairs the moment I hear my son stirring from his nap, eager to scoop him up; other times, I relish those three extra minutes of silence, allowing him to wait it out while I sit, doing absolutely nothing at the kitchen table.
Sometimes, when my partner returns home from work, the dishwasher is empty, the floors are vacuumed, and dinner is well underway; other times, the sink and dishwasher are practically overflowing, the floor is a minefield of crushed Goldfish crackers, and I plead for takeout—even if it’s stretching the budget—because I simply can’t face cooking one more meal this week.
Sometimes, I tuck my phone away and give my undivided attention to my son; other times, I find myself lost in articles about being a “perfect mom” while my child is right there, needing me.
Sometimes, I lay my son down for a nap and become a productivity machine—blog posts written, dishes washed, laundry folded; other times, I pull him into bed with me, and we indulge in a two-hour nap of pure bliss, only to wake up to a daunting list of chores still waiting.
Sometimes, I feel completely secure in my unique style of motherhood, unaffected by what other moms are doing; other times, I can’t help but compare my thighs to the seemingly perfect ones of the mom ahead of me in line or feel envious of another mother’s luxurious family vacation to Jamaica that we can’t afford.
Sometimes, I count my blessings for the opportunity to stay home with my son every day; other times, I wish for a bigger purpose beyond cutting food into tiny pieces or locating a block wedged under the coffee table.
I am a mother of contradictions; I can be one type of mom one moment and a completely different one the next. I’m imperfect and unpredictable, capable yet sometimes at a loss, a vibrant mix of colors on the same canvas.
But even during my moments of doubt, laziness, or feeling like I’m just not nailing it, I know I’m a good mom. And you are too. Even if your kid consumes red dye #40 or you find a conversation about Ryan Gosling more captivating than the baby in front of you, or you lose your patience because someone barges in on you in the bathroom for the tenth time today—you’re still a wonderful mom, just not a flawless one.
Because let’s face it, nobody gets it perfectly right. Sometimes.
For more insight into the complexities of motherhood, check out this post about family building options on Resolve.org, or explore more about home insemination kits from Make a Mom and our other blogs at Intracervical Insemination.