Good Enough: My Mom Mantra

photo-16The other day, I read a post over at Daddy Drinks about playing the game of parenthood. He talks about parents and how we unavoidably judge each other, and it got me thinking about things I do that may be frowned upon. I stopped breast-feeding after five months (and never pumped and dumped). I don’t make my son wear socks if he says he’s not cold. I bribe with candy and sometimes even toy-driven sticker charts for more elaborate ruses. I’d like to say that even though I judge other parents for their actions that I’m hardest on myself, but that’s not true. I’m too competitive a person to take “the game of parenting” seriously. Doing so would result in a vicious soccer mom snowball effect that ends with me rocking in the fetal position on my crumb-ridden kitchen floor. The key to being a good (sane) mom is that I know when to cut myself some slack. If I get out of the house in the morning with Jed and I wearing socks that are both matching and clean, it’s a pretty good day. Of course, some days are better than others. Ever since becoming a mom, my mantra has become “good enough”. I didn’t get through my to-do list today, but it’s good enough. I didn’t put away all the laundry, but it’s good enough. This bottle of wine isn’t going to erase my hellish day, but it’s good enough.

What’s your mom mantra?





Preschool Valentines

I managed to make my “bad mommy” mistake before lunch today… I didn’t send Jed to school with valentines. It’s not that it didn’t cross my mind, but he’s two, and they don’t have desks, so I couldn’t quite envision the whole exchange with the little makeshift mailboxes set up for everyone. I just didn’t think they’d get it. Of course that doesn’t stop us from shoving every other holiday and adult rationale down their throats. So I sent him off to school heartless, and he came back with these:

I have to highlight my favorite one, a homemade valentine, Star Wars-style:

The “lightsaber” is a glow bracelet.  How clever is that? Kudos to Mack’s mom!

Shame on Jed’s mom.

Look Ma, no man!

Today is my son, Jed’s second birthday. (Thank you, thank you. Yes, they grow up so fast.) His party isn’t until tomorrow, but the grandparents are all coming in early for a more intimate celebration. Just the fam, a nice dinner (read: takeout) and a HUGE pile of presents. When I saw my folks hauling in the loot he was getting from our side of the family alone, I thought to myself, “We’re going to need a bigger boat.” (Please forgive my random, loosely applicable movie/TV quotes and references. And get used to them.) That’s Jaws, and I’m referring to our need for more toy storage. We’ve already repurposed some peach baskets as toy storage for both boy and dog. And I purchased a few apple crates, which are on my to-do list to be transformed into bookshelves for Jed. But this afternoon, while he was sleeping and while Dave was at work (you silly people with your silly jobs), I put together this “super size toy organizer” all by myself!


It’s not like it was a huge feat. The directions were only one page. But ever since I got married, I realized I’ve gotten lazy when it comes to things like repairs and home projects. Why do it myself when there’s a man to do it for me? I think I threw up a little in my mouth just typing that. The Semi-Feminist in me is sickened by these thoughts, while my id applauds my banal instincts. But from now on, I’m going to make a much more mindful effort to do things myself when I am capable. Because I know I can unclog a toilet. And kill a spider. And start a fire. The first step in any addiction is admitting it. My name is Lindsey, and I’m a husband-aholic.

Do you rely on someone or something in your life too much? Step forward and share. This is a circle of trust:)

Choosing an unemployed persona.

So, it’s after 2pm and I’m lying in bed in my bathrobe catching up on my Hulu and deciding what type of unemployed person I want to be:

The Couch Potato. The woman who stays in her PJs all day watching TV, seeing how long she can wear the same pair of sweatpants before they start to decay. Downside: Living with this woman can get a little gamey after Sweatpants Challenge, Day Three. (Don’t ask me how I know this.)

The Undiscovered Musician. I’ve also considered taking up the bongo drums and float around performing on the sidewalks. Downside: Bongos don’t come with a case for people to toss tips in like a guitar.

The Dharma Bum. Waxing philosophical with the folks parked on the bench downtown at Lexington Ave. and Walnut St. Downside: I can’t really think of one. Those guys seem really cool.

But, there’s this not-so-trivial matter that I can’t ignore as I lay here and wallow in wagelessness. I’m a mom. For the past two years, in addition to my job, I’ve also been taking care of my son full-time. So, when you think about it, I’m not exactly unemployed. I’m just working and not getting paid–and for the best boss and at the best job I’ve ever had 🙂