About The World’s Okayest Mom

I’m learning that the fun isn’t in perfection, but in the failures. The beauty isn’t in control, but in chaos.

Why a blog?

In my darker parenting moments, I have visions of My Girl as an adult – though she’s not the sweet, successful wildlife conservationist/rock star (her current ambitions) as we hope. She’s more like Matt Damon from The Talented Mr. Ripley, or Leonardo DiCaprio from Catch Me If You Can. Somedays, it’s not a stretch. She’s fascinating and charming, and when I’m feeling particularly down about my parenting skills, a potential con artist. The first time I read another mommy blog where the writer very seriously posted that she sometimes has concerns that she’s screwing her child up so much that he may end up a sociopath, I felt immense relief. That My Girl may end up a train-wreck of an adult, a sixteen year old runaway, a meth addict living in the rundown attic of the town’s haunted house – those were my deepest, unspoken fears. They remained unspoken because who thinks that of their kids? Who thinks that of their own parenting skills? Apparently at least one of other mom. And if there’s one other mom, you can be sure there are more. So this blog is to offer immense relief for those of you out there with difficult children – and aren’t all children difficult in their own ways and on their own certain days? This blog is that friend who eases the burden of raising another human being up in a world of dye-free, organic sugar, no spanking, everyone gets a trophy, maybe we should be simultaneously saving for college and future therapy bills; that friend who not only listens but has her own story of just how screwed up parenting, kids, families and life can be; that friend who doesn’t judge because she’s been there too. I’ve not only been there, but I am here… taking up residency in a 24-hour a day padded cell. Join me, why don’t you?

worlds okayest mom portrait
(Thank you to My Girl for my portrait. It’s pretty spot on, except I’m tall enough for my feet to touch the ground when sitting at the computer.)

Why The Mom Fail?

Before Children (or BC, as I like to say), I was a perfectionist. Actually, I still am a perfectionist, just only in parts of my life separate from motherhood. If I have a goal at work, I hit it. If I’m given a deadline, I complete it early. I’m the type of person who threw off the grading curve in class. Unapologetically threw it off. But as a mom… As a mom… Well, I’m the mom who completely forgot to provide snacks for the preschool class. I’m the mom who sent her child to school on the first day of first grade with her packed lunch and backpack… And then forgot my own work bag and computer sitting on the front porch. I’m the mom who paid for the school picture package and then promptly let the date of pictures slip her mind. So then, I was the mom who sent her child to school in a hooded sweatshirt and a ponytail that was completed by said child – age 8. You can imagine how it looked. Then, I was the mom who said “eff it” on picture retake day. There are good intentions for perfection, but between my mothering skills and My Girl’s natural ability to drive me crazy, perfection is far, far away. But I’m learning that the fun isn’t in perfection, but in the failures. The beauty isn’t in control, but in chaos. So there’s The Mom Fail, because all of us have Mom Fails, but none of us are Mom Failures.