I am the Perfect Parent

What?

Don’t laugh.

Don’t click away because you think I’ve all of a sudden come up with some sense of insane narcissism and arrogance.

Because I haven’t. I’m just stating the truth. Remember, I’m all about the truth. About being REAL. About laying it all out there and not being afraid to talk about things that other people don’t want to talk about.

Like this. Like the fact that I really am the perfect parent.

And whether you believe it or not, SO ARE YOU.

You remember being told that “you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family?” (Or something to that extent.) I’m starting to realize and acknowledge just how true and important that little bit of information is.

The past two weeks have been chaotic for me. Despite the wonderful lessons I tried to take from Mandi’s tips on balancing life as a WAHM, I have found myself completely and totally overwhelmed and rundown. Granted, I got my work done (last night, actually) for the week, I washed all of the clothes (even if they aren’t folded) and my family has had some sort of home-cooked meal every night this week (so what if they were from the crock-pot?).

I found myself wondering out loud some days, “How am I going to manage another child?!” We’re still actively trying to have another baby, despite last months circumstances. And I’ve really got my fingers crossed that this month is it for us. My best friend back in Alabama and her husband are trying for their second, and I found out the other day that another friend of mine just got a positive HPT. How fun it would be to be pregnant with two of my greatest friends….

But, despite the excitement and the joy that I would feel (and am hoping to feel soon!), if every week was like these past two weeks, I would probably lose my mind. I’ve raised my voice, gotten angry, been rude to my husband, screamed (yes, SCREAMED) at my child. Needless to say, I have played the role of mean mommy and un-loving wife too many times in the last 14 days.

And I don’t like it.

(I’m sure you’re probably still reading this wondering where on EARTH I get that I’m a perfect parent. Don’t worry…I’m getting there.)

But last night I realized something…

While sitting at my computer, putting the final touch on the last project I’m doing this week, feeling guilty for not being upstairs snuggled in bed next to my husband and for screaming at my child twice today (even though he was misbehaving and being extremely ugly…I could have dealt with it a little better)…I realized:

Despite all of my downfalls….

Despite all of my shortcomings…

Despite the hundreds of times I fail at motherhood and marriage every. single. day….

I am the perfect parent.

For MY son.

Maybe not for yours. Maybe not for anyone else’s kid out there.

But for my son, for my little boy…

I am everything he needs.

I know his weaknesses and his strengths. I know what every cry means; whether they are real or fake. I know the cure to every boo-boo and bad dream. I can fix anything with a hug and a kiss. I understand his “dialect” better than anyone else. I can decode words and sentences like I’ve been trained by the CIA. I know HIM and I know what HE needs.

Because I’m his mommy.

I might not get it all right. I may let him eat M&M’s and chill in front of the TV too many hours a day while I work. I might give him cake batter and chocolate. I may laugh at the mischievous and sneaky things he does, when I should be implementing some sort of “disciplinary measures.” I might let him climb on furniture, jump off of said furniture, or run around and play in the dirt.

But at the end of the day, no one (and I really and sincerely mean NO ONE) could take care of my son better than me.

And that, makes me the perfect parent.