I was born self-righteous, but if motherhood has taught me anything, it’s humility. In my 20s, I had all the answers. Now I have only questions. Most often I ask, “Is this normal?”
It is a relief when I find moms who can relate to the chaos in my house. On the other hand, I’ve run into a few mothers who just give unsolicited advice. Those gals don’t get a second play date.
The following confessions will either inflate your ego, or it will comfort you. If it does the latter, consider us friends.
I don’t always limit my kids’ TV time. I put them in Time Out and forget they are there. I struggle to have sincere compassion unless there is blood.
I buy the wrong juice boxes. I bribe the kids with candy. Making dinner usually begins with me either opening a can, opening a jar or inspecting for frostbite.
I hate exercise but I joined a gym because the childcare is cheap. I chose the dance fitness class because it emphasized fun and expectations are low.
I haven’t flossed regularly since the late 90s. I believe wearing a ball cap is a perfectly fine substitution for washing my hair.
I am writing this very column at 11:50 a.m. in my pajamas. I’m also strategizing how I can make this nightgown look like a legitimate outfit acceptable enough for the school pick-up line.
My son just started kindergarten, and I will undoubtedly forget his Friday folder. I will never be the person they want volunteering in the clinic.
On the second day of school, I didn’t want to park and get out so I dropped him off without being certain he could find his classroom. I guess it worked out.
I allow and encourage my kids to watch DVDs in the car, even when we are running a five-minute errand. Their car seats could qualify for a scientific study.
If my house looks clean, don’t open any closet doors because you could get hurt. The pile of towels in my laundry room is taller than the average human.
Despite my laundry list of imperfections, I am a loving mother.
No matter how busy I am, I’ll rarely turn down their requests to read a book. I have a strict Band-Aid policy, but I am available 24-hours a day, seven days a week to rock, hold or comfort. My house is not clean, but it has far less germs than Wal-Mart.
I have become a pro at picking my battles. For instance, I’ve given up trying to keep my kids from eating on the couch. My new goal is to let it get nasty enough to qualify for the church’s youth department.
I know the value of a dirty, well-worn couch. I worked full-time in youth and children’s ministries for 8 years before having children. Motherhood has made me realize that I owe a large population of church-going moms an apology.
You all were right. Offering childcare at every church event is a worthy ministry. Also, working in the toddler nursery when you have a toddler, even once a month, is a lot to ask.
Along with hindsight, I’ve adjusted the bar on my spiritual habits. My prayer journal has been replaced with post-it notes. I read Scripture but have neither the brain capacity nor the time to memorize it. Actually, the more I read the Bible, the more questions I have.
With pretty much everything in my life right now, I’ve come to the conclusion that having all the answers is highly overrated.
Sarah Herron is a 30-something blonde navigating marriage, motherhood and morals in Maryville, Tenn. She is married to a patient man, and together they are raising two boys, ages 3 and 5. She is a freelance writer and a contributor to youth resources for the United Methodist Publishing House. Her column, Blonde Faith, will be published on the first Thursday of every month in Blount Today.