The Perfect Mom

One of the best pieces of advice I’ve received as a mom was given to me by my therapist.

What? I live in California. Of course I have a therapist. I actually have two.

Because I’m an overachiever.

We’re working on that.

This wise woman, after listening to me freak out about everything that I was doing wrong with baby Joseph, finally said, “Look. Your son’s probably going to end up in therapy no matter what you do.” She paused while I gasped in protest, horror and dismay. There was quite a bit of gasping. She held up her hand, “But…your job as a mother is to make sure that he’s not talking to someone because of severe neglect or abuse. Just run of the mill my mother drives me crazy stuff.”

In one instant, that one piece of advice freed me of the majority of guilt I carried because I wasn’t the Perfect Mother. I was able to take step back and look at what I was doing. And you know, the view from back there wasn’t nearly as frantic. A lot of those questions that used to have me scrambling for Google or calling other mothers are now a lot easier to answer for myself.

Am I doing everything I conceivably can to encourage their intellectual and physical development? Probably not. But we’re having fun. And they’re doing just fine.

Are they watching too much TV? We’re just going to call it educational and leave it at that. It’s a losing battle and there’s no prize if I win.

How many Nutri Grain bars should one baby eat? I don’t worry about it until I’m counting boxes rather than bars.

It doesn’t mean I care less, it means that I have the energy and the time to care more. To care about the big questions. Questions like…

What type of values are we instilling in our children?

Are we teaching them to be accepting and kind?

Are we remembering that they only have one childhood?

Who is going to have The Talk with them? (One, two, three…not it! Sorry Chad. You should read my blog.)

I’m not saying I don’t have my moments of panic when I freak out and put the family on a path towards extremism. Because I do. Quite often, actually. And I’m not saying that after our session I went home and took the Excel spreadsheets off the cabinet doors.

What? I haven’t told you about the spreadsheets? Hmmm…note to self: Share the spreadsheets.

But I did go home and, for the first time in a long time, relaxed. I know I’m going to make mistakes. I know I’ve already made mistakes. I just have to keep them small.

I can do that.

Mandy Dawson is a wife and mother of two who lives on the Central Coast of California. While she’s not practicing deep breathing exercises to keep her calm after her children decide to spray the entire bathroom down using the shower head, she can be found blogging at Mandyland.