Wednesday, May 26, 2010

It's OK. He Only Smokes When He's Really Drunk.

While I brush my teeth, I often find myself reviewing that day's events in my mind's eye. [That's before I start squeezing, picking, and plucking things that shouldn't be squeezed, picked, or plucked (guilty pleasure #16).]

Some days are good mommy days-- I rinse and spit feeling at one with the universe.
Some days are less good-- and I practically wag my finger at my reflection, resolving to have more patience, say, or to banish the yelling.

So, yeah, I'm not a perfect parent. Honestly, I don't know whether there exists such a creature. But I've got at least two things going for me (which is nice): 1) I'm always striving for perfection and 2) I'm definitely better than this kid's parents.

Good grief.

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