Friday, May 6, 2011


I have a pretty good mama.
She's a pain in my tail some days, (smooch!) but I know if I needed something, she would drop everything to get it done.
I know she loves me and my kids with a passion that defies all logic. I'm pretty sure she's kind of fond of The Man, too.
She's one of those moms, not June Cleaver, not Roseanne, but a meet in the middle, real mom who made sure we always had what we needed and a good portion of what we wanted.
She's a pretty good role model for motherhood.
I, on the other hand, fall into the Roseanne spectrum.
Despite my good upbrining, I'm loud and crass and sarcastic.
I threaten to hang my kids out of the window by their toes in a move reminiscent of Michael Jackson and Blanket.
According to my children, I work their fingers to the bone and never let them rest or play.
I make them eat their veggies because I want them to get sick.
I make them go to bed at night because I don't want them to be happy.
I dress them warmly because I'm cold.
Basically motherhood is all about me.
But anyone who knows me knows there is no surprise there.
I am no Mother Theresa.
I do have wire coat hangers, although I have never had the opportunity to chase my children around the house shrieking that fact.
As Mother's Day approaches, I find myself reflecting on mothering styles.
There is the selfless, self sacrificing mother. I personally think her kids will never leave the nest and she'll be supporting them until she's dead and buried, but that's just me.
There's the militant mom. Watch out for a child with access to an arsenal.
There's the fluffy, sweet mom. Let's just say road kill.
And then there's mom's like me. Kind of a mix. I'm Nurse Cratchette when they are sick, determined to will them better (Or scare them well, either way it works). I'm a cheerleader (who wants to steroid test and see birth certificates for the opposing team! No six year old is that good at baseball AND that big, damn it!) And I'm the mama whose pushing her kids out of the nest with trembling hands and thre realization that once they are out, they won't come back.
Am I a great mom? Nope. I freely admit that.
And I a good mama? Some days. Not on the three days weekend alone with my kids.
Am I a devoted mom? Hell yes.
Am I a loving mom? Gods yes.
Amd I a mom? With every fiber of my being, yes.
Happy mother days to all moms, mine included, whose styles might be different, whose kids may be shopping around for a nursing home, but whose hearts are full of love and laughter.

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