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Rants from a Slacker Mom

“Martha Stewart Mommy Disorder” should be a DSM (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) diagnosis like “Bipolar Disorder” or “Major Depression Syndrome.”

No one’s ever gonna throw you a party because you baked 300 cupcakes instead of buying them. Your kids will never appreciate or even care that you took three weeks to scrapbook their Disney photos.

Your child isn’t smarter than mine because you pureed his organic baby food. She’s not cuter because you French Braid her hair everyday and dress her in expensive baby couture.

You can spend hours sewing the perfect Halloween costume if you want to; your child is still gonna want the $19.99 “rocker” zombie my kid got from Party City.

If you want to squeeze lemons and make elaborate signs for your child’s lemonade stand, go for it! My kid’s impromptu Kool-Aid stand will still bring in the change.

Your efforts at maintaining a junk-free house are in vain. The little munchkin you deprive of Oreos and Doritos will inevitably gorge himself at a friend’s house (probably mine) – and become a life-long closet eater.

I know you’ll say I’m being a hypocrite. (At least, most of those who know me.) After all, I have been the room mom for my kids every year and have been known to take 6-plus kids on outings for the day.

But, really, the room-mom-gig thing is my own way of justifying never having to step foot in a PTA meeting; and the more the kids equals the less the work for me. Darwinism at it’s best!

Sure, it’s important to me that my house is clean and my kids actually comb their hair. I do care that they eat vegetables occasionally (pizza sauce totally counts) and participate in extra-curricular activities.

But, we all know that June Cleaver doesn’t really exist. It is near impossible to achieve perfection in life – let alone parenting. I accept my many limitations (cooking, baking, cooking and baking) and work with realistic standards that I set – and re-set – for my kids … and myself.

After all, none of us really knows what we are doing. Looking like you know what you are doing is only for you; not for your kids.

The Disney trip you took will always remain a magical memory, even without an album decorated with scalloped borders and fancy cut-outs.

Because, really, your kids would be thrilled to eat a “Lunchable” if it meant you had 15 more minutes to play catch with them outside. Time spent together is what they’ll remember. True perfection!



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