Posted by Duff

Okay, so a haircut mistake may or may not have me looking like this:

It does not make feel like a natural mother.

I vaguely remember promising myself when I became a  mostly stay-at-home mom that I’d become more, well, motherly. Time to confess:

I don’t think I have.

I thought I would cook from scratch more often.  Goose egg.  Someone blessed my children with the same frantic metabolism their father has, and they’re all about eating five minutes ago, around the clock.

I thougtht we’d go to the zoo or other places that children like to go. Except my children. One doesn’t like the car, the other has the attention span of a house fly. So after a few attempts at special trips on our own, we reserve them for Daddy’s day off, when I have reinforcements.

We’ll go to the park, I say. When we pull into the parking lot, The Dervish tells me, “This isn’t the park I wanted to go to.” Because she has preferences 30 minutes in the other direction. But we stay. And I hear about my choice, and the heat, and Atticus’ love affair with the swings gone on too long for The Dervish. And then we leave.

I want to cut sandwiches into shapes. My kids don’t eat sandwiches. Who doesn’t like sandwiches? I could write poetry about sandwiches. Would trip you to get to a sandwich cut into a circle with an olive, red pepper and pickle face. How is this adoration not passed down through blood like my pout was?

I will give myself one break, though. I never thought that the mark of a good mom was a clean house. That’s not how stories get shared, or the properties of water get discovered, or the thrill of texture can be experienced.

Just look at that button nose, would you? He’s lucky it’s not a cherry tomato.