Sometimes, I whip up organic fruit smoothies for my son, carefully blending them in my kitchen, while other times he’s munching on Honey Nut Cheerios that have made their way into the corners of our untidy floor.
Sometimes I rise before my son, shower, and slip into something other than sweatpants, feeling somewhat presentable for a potential outing; other times, I choose the comfort of elastic waistband pants, apply deodorant instead of taking a shower, and cancel any plans that require me to even step outside.
Sometimes, I get down on the floor to build block towers, read stories, and sing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider”; other times, I find myself too uninterested to engage, struggling with the monotony of entertaining a toddler for endless hours.
Sometimes, I dash upstairs to scoop my son from his crib as soon as I hear him stir from his nap; other times, I crave just a few more moments of silence and let him wait while I sit at the kitchen table doing absolutely nothing.
Sometimes, when my partner returns home from work, the kitchen is spotless, the floor is vacuumed, and dinner is on the stove; other times, the sink and dishwasher are overflowing like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the floor is a minefield of crushed Goldfish crackers, and I plead with him to order takeout, even though it strains our budget, just so I can avoid cooking another meal this week.
Sometimes, I put my phone down and devote my full attention to my son; other times, I find myself engrossed in articles about parenting while neglecting to interact with him at all.
Sometimes, I lay my son down for a nap and accomplish a whirlwind of tasks: writing blog posts, washing dishes, folding laundry; other times, I pull him into bed with me for a blissful two-hour nap, waking up to a daunting list of unfinished chores.
Sometimes, I’m completely at ease with my unique approach to motherhood, not worrying about what others are doing; other times, I can’t help but compare my body to that of a slimmer mom in the checkout line or feel envious of another mom’s family vacation to a tropical destination that is far from our reach.
Sometimes, I feel incredibly fortunate to spend each day with my son; other times, I wish someone had a greater need for me than just slicing their food into tiny pieces or retrieving a block stuck under the couch.
I embody a series of contradictions; in any given moment, I can be a different version of myself than I was just moments ago. I am imperfect and inconsistent, capable yet clueless, a myriad of hues painted on the same canvas.
Yet, even on the days when I feel lazy, inept, or just plain lost, I am undeniably a good mother. And so are you. Even if your child consumes snacks with artificial colors or you find a conversation about pop culture more engaging than baby talk, and even if you lose your patience because someone barges in while you’re trying to find a moment of privacy. Even then, you’re a good mom; just not a perfect one.
But who gets it right all the time? No one, really. Sometimes, we all nail it.
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Summary: Motherhood is filled with contradictions, where some days are marked by productivity and engagement, while others are characterized by chaos and a longing for solitude. It’s about embracing the imperfect journey of parenting and recognizing that even in our less-than-perfect moments, we are still good mothers.